#her own lore and story elements.....

[bisupergirl]

constantly thinking about where kara would be at today if she had been allowed to transition into new earth continuity along with everyone else after COIE (and if pre-crisis kara wasn't stripped for parts and tossed aside for the benefit of other characters)...

[crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

Last line tag game!

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

Tagged by @fortune-maiden

Thank you so much for giving me the kick my brain needed to finally choose a project to focus on! <3

And as for these documents, they’re going under the mattress and out of sight until I get back. See that, Captain? That’s called thinking ahead. You’re welcome.

Not exactly the last line, but it's the last section I wrote and decided I liked enough to share. Is it from any of the anticipated projects I've actually told people about? Nope, it's part of a self-indulgent OC-centric fic that was conceived in 2012 and never saw the light of day for good reason.

Tagging: @auniverseforgotten , @shadowmellow , @darth-salem-emperor-of-earth , @thatlittledandere , @koolkitty9 , @floweryuu , @lanliingwang , @otakushrew , @ryoseii , @mostlikelytofangirl

I am so very out of the loop about who in my small Tumblr circle is still active, writing, and interested in tag memes like this. So please know there's no pressure to share and if I missed someone who wants to be included feel free to consider yourself also tagged~ <3

[000marie198]

When you have a very strong one-sided grudge against a specific videogame franchise both your brothers are big fans of because it won't stop copying everything from different folklores and cultures and mythologies and history and stories of specific places

[the-crooked-library]

Creative Lineage - Dracula, Orlok, and the others

Here's the thing: the relationship between Nosferatu and Dracula is incredibly interesting - especially considering that Nosferatu (1922) was based on Dracula the book (1897), and most subsequent visual adaptations of Dracula for some reason used aspects of that film as inspiration, instead of adapting the original novel directly. As a result, there have always been endless comparisons between the two; but, in light of our most recent Nosferatu (2024), I must expand on what I personally think is their most significant (in regards to both plot development and analysis) difference.

TL;DR: it's characters. The main source of divergences between Dracula and Nosferatu is that these stories consist of vastly dissimilar characters, stuck in relatively similar situations.

I could go into heavy detail, and I will - under the cut, for the sake of all our dashboards.

At first glance, the stories of Dracula and Nosferatu are almost identical. The beginning sections follow the same essential plot beats - a young, newlywed solicitor travels to a creepy castle in Eastern Europe to assist a reclusive Count in his immigration to the West. This Count is, in fact, a vampire (otherwise known as a nosferatu), and terrorizes the young man for weeks, before departing and leaving him imprisoned; the solicitor escapes, is rescued from the wilderness by a nunnery, and returns home - where the Count has already begun his murderous process of settling in.

Here, in my opinion, is where the similarities end.

The key to understanding Nosferatu is remembering that Orlok is not Dracula; Thomas is not Jonathan; Ellen is not Mina, and so forth; and despite the mutual inspirations that affect each film adaptation of either story, the characters never react to the plot as a viewer would expect, if their precursory experience has been limited to only one or the other version.

Naturally, there are reasons for the continued addition of Nosferatu elements to Dracula adaptations. The most prominent of them is that, quite simply, audiences enjoy a fated, dangerous, inadvisable monster romance. By and large, we are titillated by the taboo; and - without adapting Le Fanu's Carmilla (1872), or adding a vampiric element to an adaptation of Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera (1910), or expanding on the queer elements of Jonathan Harker's sojourn in Transylvania - the easiest piece of classic media to sample for this sort of theme is Nosferatu (1922).

The 1922 film was, in a sense, an adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula (at least, enough to get the creators sued by his estate). In its efforts to circumvent copyright laws, it plays fast and loose with Stoker's lore and characters, renaming the Harkers, the Count, and everyone else - and, crucially, adding an element of erotic fixation that the vampire develops upon seeing a portrait of his solicitor's young wife. While still overseas, he builds a psychic connection with the melancholy and sensitive Ellen; it is both horrifying and sensual, and ultimately what she uses to destroy him - sacrificing her own blood and life to keep him out of his coffin until cock-crow. Ellen dies, but the sunlight annihilates Count Orlok, and the ending is a bittersweet new dawn.

This fixated, possessive, murderous eroticism (first displayed in its currently recognizable form by Carmilla) has become a cornerstone of the vampire genre. Elements of it are recognizable even in relatively modern media like Interview with the Vampire, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight, as well as numerous Dracula adaptations (of which the 1992 Coppola film might be the most well-known); it is even present in other, indirect offshoots like NBC's Hannibal TV series. It is, therefore, essential to note that these overtones did not exist in the same way in Dracula the novel; and the reason for that is, specifically, a difference in character.

Count Dracula, while dangerous, vampiric, and psychic, does not possess that same singular fascination with any given character in Stoker's book (save perhaps for Jonathan Harker, temporarily). He does drain Lucy night after night, and his method of killing, like with all vampires of his type, is allegorically sexual; but it isn't personal. She keeps receiving blood transfusions - effectively, refills!.. Other than her blood, he has little interest in her. He has companionship enough already - after all, he lives with three female vampires, who may be courtesans or wives, but are colloquially referred to as Vampire Brides; and, additionally, he maintains ongoing communication with some of the people and animals that live on his land. As such, when he does bite Jonathan's wife Mina, it is a practical decision - made in order to establish a potential spy in a group of people who appear to be intent on hunting him down.

Similarly, Mina herself - despite the usual characterization of her film portrayals, which are in many ways epitomized by Coppola's 1992 version - was not originally a vulnerable maiden. She is confident and educated, she has worked for a living as an educator prior to her marriage, and she knows how to use a typewriter as well as shorthand. She has no emotional connection to Dracula whatsoever beyond pure incandescent hatred; and, frankly, forcing her into any sort of romance with him is deeply inaccurate to her character - because Mina Harker is endlessly in love with her husband Jonathan.

They may be on the lower end of middle-class, but relatively stable and planning a life together - not only as husband and wife, but as solicitor and secretary, as well. It's as close to a power couple as a novel from the 1890s will approach.

This is not the case for Ellen Hutter, largely because her social circumstances are far more precarious.

Unlike Mina, she has been forcibly isolated for the majority of her life. In that, she is yet another in the line of tragic madwomen of the gothic genre - mostly due to her eccentricities and her psychic gift, which (as the Eggers version specifies) manifested early in her childhood and became socially inexcusable during her teenage years, much like any real-world form of neurodivergence. It is implied that she has been institutionalized at some point as a result; and even prior to that, her father kept her confined indoors and away from other people in efforts to control her.

This isolation is what originally leads to her connection with Orlok - who was woken from his centuries-long deathlike sleep when he heard her reaching out into the ether, begging for a friend. Then, later in her life, the same circumstances unfortunately have a direct effect on her relationship with her husband Thomas, too; while she is attached to him, she cannot ignore that she is also utterly dependent on him as her ticket to a stable life, as well as out from under her father's thumb. Again, unlike Mina, she has no marketable skills or opportunities outside of this marriage; and while Thomas never shames her for her past, he still pressures her to ignore and repress it. The manifestations of her psychic ability concern, then unsettle, then frighten him - and, ultimately, there is a transactional aspect to their union. Thomas expects himself to move ahead in the world, like his friend Friedrich; and Ellen is expected to eventually become normal. She is expected to become a happy, pretty wife and mother like Anna Harding - because, while Thomas cares for her and fully intends to provide for her, he refuses to actually understand her.

Furthermore, it must be noted that leaving her father's estate for her husband's house did not entirely save Ellen from her isolation. Unlike Mina, she has no real friends of her own. Her only friend in the 2024 film is Anna, her husband's best friend's wife; and in the 1922 original, even that tentative affection is unclear. As such, Orlok remains the only character that truly knows and accepts her as she is - which inevitably complicates their dynamic.

While Orlok is, by his own admission, incapable of a human love, he is overwhelmingly and exclusively obsessed with Ellen. Unlike Dracula, who even in death keeps the company of his women and his people, Orlok exists in utter solitude. Prior to his death, he was also heavily avoided due to his being in "covenant with the devil." The 2024 film especially makes it clear that Ellen's call, which woke him from his slumber, is exceptional; their connection is intensely personal, and it is as close to love as he can ever feel.

This aspect of the vampire's characterization fundamentally alters the context of his behaviour throughout the film. While Dracula moved to England in search of new hunting grounds and little else, Orlok goes to Germany specifically to find Ellen. By marrying Thomas Hutter, she broke the covenant she made with Orlok in her youth; thus, knowing that his claim has been infringed upon, the Count makes contact with Hutter's real estate law firm, summons him to the Carpathians, crosses the sea, and arrives to Wisborg as a physical manifestation of every dark urge and ability she has been attempting to repress. He torments her husband, tricks him into signing a marriage annulment, plagues the city, and murders the Hardings - all of it for her. She is his unique and all-consuming motivation. Again and again, he insists upon their covenant, reminding her that she has never truly belonged to the human world, and he is not incorrect in his assessment. Ellen's surrounding society infantilizes and binds her, often literally. She has nothing to lose by leaving it, except for her own sense of morality; and that is why Orlok, who represents her own abnormality, remains a beautiful, nightmarish temptation.

The other characters diverge from Stoker's just as much.

Thomas Hutter has little in common with Jonathan Harker beyond his choice in career and his time at a vampire's castle. Despite his careful attachment to his wife, he does not actually take her opinions into consideration when he plans their life - he prioritizes his social and financial advancements, which are of no interest to her, and which he sees as his duties to her and to himself; and, when she exhibits any of her unusual or melancholic traits, he does his best to try and move past them as quickly as possible. He does not experience the same attraction to the horror that she does; he cannot bring himself to understand it; and both in 1922 and in 2024, he is also largely oblivious to her eccentricities, gifting her flowers despite the fact that she does not like to see them picked and dying in a vase. That is a far cry from Jonathan - who knows his wife's love of train schedules, who is practicing shorthand with her, and who is willing to join her in cursed, godforsaken undeath when faced with the possibility of her turning. Ultimately, Thomas exists too firmly within the same societal constraints that Ellen abhors, and their relationship has none of the foundation that is unshakably shared by Jonathan and Mina.

At the same time, while the Anna is a parallel to Lucy, and her husband is a corresponding Arthur, the Hardings (once again) have no particular commonality with them. Their characterization remains undeveloped in the original 1922 film - and while Eggers does grant them some definition, it is still in no way similar to Stoker's.

Stoker's Lucy is a charming, cheerful, flirty, and a little coquettish young girl; she exists on the cusp of womanhood and marriage, and her pre-vampire arc revolves around her choice between three almost-equally delightful suitors. She adores and idolizes Mina, she is childishly excited about her future; and in these things, she is very different from Anna, who is already married, a mother of two with one on the way - and who does care for Ellen, but in a motherly, rather than girlish, fashion.

Her husband, too, is quite different from Arthur Holmwood.

In 2024, Friedrich Harding is - above all else - the film's personification of the trap that is patriarchy. He is the epitome of what a man is expected to be: a successful business owner with a pretty blonde wife and 2.5 kids (I thought Anna's pregnancy was very much on the nose. Quite literally, 2.5 kids!). He is generous, he cares for his family, and he is firmly Rational. On the surface, Harding appears to be an ideal made flesh; and as the film progresses, it becomes evident that this ideal is designed to crumble.

Much of Harding's rationality is heavily hypocritical. While he claims to be making all his decisions based on pure logic, Ellen's - an outsider's - perspective exposes the truth behind his motivations. He ignores her warnings because he does not like her and considers her impudent; he kicks his own sick best friend out of his house with only his similarly sick wife to care for him, because he is annoyed and unsettled by their references to the supernatural; he refuses to listen to Von Franz and ignores the danger his family is in, because he is frightened of losing them to something he cannot comprehend, rather than a mundane, potentially treatable illness. All of these decisions are emotional, rooted in his misogyny and closed-mindedness - and so, Harding loses his daughters, his wife, his unborn son, as well as the unflappable, rational facade he had been so carefully maintaining. He ends the film a wreckage of himself, having committed necrophilia with the corpse of his wife because he was emotionally, irrationally unable to let go of her even in death; he dies of the plague that came to Wisborg through his own ship yard, holding her in his arms. Even under the guise of benevolence, his patriarchal worldview undermines and fails him entirely. It is a terrible thrill to watch him fall apart, and the ruin that is left in his place is one of the most obvious illustrations of the story's principal themes.

The other characterizations follow a similar sort of pattern. Sievers, unlike Seward, has no romantic rivalry with Harding; and beyond a professional connection, they are not really friends. Von Franz is far less knowledgeable about vampires than Van Helsing - for the majority of the film, he is stumbling in the dark with the rest of the cast, only finding a way of destroying Orlok in Herr Knock's codex. Knock, too, is far less noble than Renfield - even though he is just as insane as his counterpart, he sees Ellen as an object to be traded for money and power, rather than a kind soul that he would die to protect.

(Quincey Morris, unfortunately, does not exist in Nosferatu. Murnau hadn't found a place for a cowboy in his production; consequently, Eggers could not, either.)

The point is, really, that while Dracula and Nosferatu share a common premise, a comparison between them cannot be made without acknowledging the glaring differences between their characters. For instance, even though Orlok's relationship with Ellen is toxic in the usual vampiric way - part sex, part horror, part possession, part liberation - Thomas is by no means a perfect partner for her, either, because he is not Jonathan Harker, and Ellen is not Mina. Similarly, Von Franz, Sievers, and Harding are not a brave vampire hunting team - they are all blind, each in their own specific way (Von Franz, lacking straightforward knowledge; Sievers, trusting Von Franz without question; Harding, unable to think outside of societal rules). Expecting them to react to their situation the same way as the cast of Dracula is an exercise in futility.

As such, if you do get the chance to see the film again, or if it merely plays in the darkness of your skull when you close your eyes - instead of fixating on the few surface-level similarities between two different vampires and the people they haunt, allow the story of Nosferatu to seduce you on its own terms. Whether it is 1922 or 2024, we, as viewers, deserve its living blood - rather than the shadow of its predecessor.

[ennn]

Recontextualisng the Ballad and Road with the Con and the Hex

I know some folks are upset or disappointed that the Witches' Road here was revealed as the product of Agatha's long con and Billy's Hex magic – that this seems to devalue or invalidate what was being explored about covenhood and sisterhood, or maybe "made it all about a guy".

Here's how I've processed it:

The heart of a good con is a story that rings true

The first version of the Witches' Ballad that Nicky performs for others already has a certain darkness to it. Because even though it was born from their love, the song was used to con and kill witches.

After Nicky's death, Agatha further expands the Ballad for her new deadly long con, adding more flourishes to it, including the mention of "death's hand in mine". It's dark, enticing, powerful, magical. Very much on brand for Agatha Harkness.

What's interesting are the changes between this version and the Sacred Chant version we got in Episode 2. And it's these more recent changes that seem to trip up Agatha with the coven.

For example, the version Agatha used across many years (the one overlaid with her killing witches) does not contain the lines mentioning:

"wake thy power earthly and divine"

"a coven true / two"

" fire, water, earth, and air" – Agatha's earlier version does contain spirit however

I think this speaks to how the Ballad and legend of the Road have gotten away from Agatha. At the heart of the con is a story, and this story has out in the world for centuries.

And it's not like Agatha would have stopped it: For the con to work, the story has to spread. The more witches who know about the Road and the Ballad, the more witches Agatha can target.

But people tend to change the stories they come in contact with, making it their own.

Consider that the story under the long con didn't even come from Agatha: a random witch interpreted the Ballad as a way to get to the Witches' Road, and the Road as an actual place. The con worked because Agatha saw what people wanted, a Road to what they want.

People infuse stories with their own dreams and desires, interpret and transform them to fit with their own lens. That there are apparently multiple versions of the Ballad in the show (more than we see as they mention Lorna's version being the most popular) speaks to this, I think.

The Sacred Chant version of the Ballad is probably a relatively recent attempt by Agatha to update the song she uses given the more modern interpretations of it. She knew about Lorna's version and how popular it is, so I wouldn't be surprised if she pulled elements from that.

So Nicky and Agatha created the Ballad, and Agatha developed it as as a killer con, but over the centuries, I'd say that the Witches' Road has become something bigger than two people.

This lore and ballad has become part of this world's witchy history and culture, reflecting the community's hopes and dreams, beliefs and fears: First with its promise of glory and reward – because that's Agatha's hook – and then thanks to artists like Lorna, with the promise of love that never dies, love that cannot be turned.

So what if the Road doesn't really exist? There are stories that are true that never happened. That doesn't make them less true or important.

It was probably... not helpful that we only get Agatha in full asshole mode addressing this reveal. Her dismissing the song as not meaning anything might be the biggest outright lie she’s ever told, given that the song began with Nicky.

Remember Agatha lies. The Road is not just a con and the song actually means everything, especially to her.

And it is significant that it is the Lorna Wu version of the Ballad – the version Billy is shown listening to – that the Hex Road is built around. It is this version that brings the Ballad back to a place of undying love and family and hope, promising "I'll see you at the end".

We probably wouldn't have gotten the Road we did get if it wasn't for Lorna Wu’s selfless love and sacrifice for her daughter. Because that’s the version Billy connected with. Not the ones Agatha used for her long con.

What's real is what you make of it

So Jac Schaeffer has mentioned that this twist was inspired by The Usual Suspects movie. Not just how the reveal was done – with Agatha framed as the mastermind figure who knew all along (camera wink) and Billy piecing the revelation together from clues with growing horror – but more importantly, how it didn’t detract from how the viewer felt about the characters and what they went through:

When you learn it was all a made-up story, it doesn’t undermine your experience of the movie. You still care about Gabriel Byrne’s character, you still care about Edie, and you care that Fenster died.

Does the Witches' Road being a creation of Billy's chaos magic, led by his subconscious invalidate what the coven went through, what these women and this boy did together?

I don't think it does. Because the experience this coven had was real. Their emotions, decisions, triumphs, lessons learnt, the moments of connection they had with each other — all of it was real to them.

Schaeffer wrote for the Black Widow movie and I'm reminded of the scene where Yelena rejects the idea that her family wasn't real because it was rooted in them being deep undercover:

That wasn't real – who cares. Don't say that. Please don't say that, it was real. It was real to me.

With the exception of Agatha (and Rio at least by Episode 8) who were aware that the Road was a hex, there was no filter on what the coven took away from the Road.

After all, chaos magic bends reality and creates.

Consider Jen at the end of this journey. She may never know the Road was conjured by Billy and rooted in a con of Agatha's but she did have her arc and incredible growth – to the point where she was committed to saving Agatha as part of her coven in the earth trial.

Jen got her power back and embraces being a witch again, as a sister in the craft, because of their shared experience on the Road.

For Lilia, her divination magic didn't care where the Road came from or what conjured it. Outside the hex, she still had the vision to place a sigil on Billy, and later the vision of her coven – the coven she needed – and their destiny together.

Lilia's beautiful journey, her remembering herself and her power, is still intact.

For Alice, she still discovered the truth about her mother's quest to keep her safe from her curse. And with the help of her coven, Alice did lift her curse. She did let go of her anger and found new peace in with a coven.

All of that is still real and still happened.

Agatha is more complicated because she knew from the start that the Road was a Hex. But this is also a deeply hurt love-starved person who also allowed herself to believe for a brief period that Billy might be Nicky despite all evidence to the contrary, until Rio made it clear otherwise.

Did Agatha genuinely find herself caring about this coven by the end of Episode 4? I think she did. I think the fear of losing Billy that episode was genuine too, as was her regret and remorse for killing Alice, because she did feel the loss of that coven relationship that had just started to form.

Agatha's knowledge of the Hex further explains why she lashes out at Billy after Alice's death, aside from his moralising. The spirit trial was a product of his subconscious after all. It was just set up for tragedy because of how the Hex worked (more on that below).

Ultimately, the bonds these witches did make with each other, them coming together as a coven even for a limited time, did matter I think. Jennifer, Alice, and Lilia had their arcs.

Agatha's is more of a mess – and that's a whole other discussion to go into – but I'd say that she's made progress on her arc. With Jen healing Billy, Alice stepping up to protect her, the earth trial moving her towards acknowledging the indiscriminate nature of death. She did see and feel what a coven could be for her, and she does remember them, and what could have been.

The magic of the Road

I think part of the magic of the Road was how it seemed to have purpose in bringing a coven together. How "the Road changes for the coven". Well uh it still did... just with different mechanics behind the curtain.

As a reference point: Why did Wanda create her Hex? To get a reality where she could have a happy family. Why did Billy create the Road? He immediately needed somewhere to escape the Salem Seven, but ultimately he wanted a way to find Tommy.

Note that it's not like Billy made up a version of Tommy just waiting at the Road. His Hex doesn't have a solution or answer, his Hex manifests a Road to find a way forward.

It helps to contextualise the Road as not only the product of out-of-control magic, this Road is also a manifestation of:

a genuine love and curiosity for witchcraft, including its culture and history (let's not forget Billy is a witch who doesn't have a coven)

a need for family and community

a desire to help others find personal growth or what they are looking for (Billy is a good kid that's been raised by a loving family)

Most importantly, as a telepath Billy isn't creating the Road only for himself or using only his own thoughts: with his mind-reading his subconscious is pulling from the coven members around him.

That's why the trials are designed for the coven members, with the spirit trial being so weird because Billy has trouble reading Agatha's mind. And what does Billy learn at the start of Episode 5 with the Salem Seven reappearing? Agatha killed her own coven and doesn't seem remorseful about it at all.

Safe to say Billy's subconscious did not like that.

I hear Schaeffer has confirmed this thinking in a recent interview with House of R, saying there were deleted lines in Episode 9 with Agatha explaining that the trials were informed by Billy's subconscious mind-reading. Agatha was not a fan of how Billy's subconscious wanted personal growth and team-bonding.

So while we were joking about the Road forcing these witches to get therapy, it actually closer to what was happening than we realised. It just wasn't driven by some mysterious cosmic force or divine entity, but by a kid subconsciously who meant well.

There's perhaps something to be said about how there isn't a magical Road already existing out there for Witches to find themselves.

Unlike sorcerers in the MCU who pull magic from the universe or other dimensions, the magic of witches comes from within.

[avelera]

(Critique) Mel Medarda Should Have Known About Her Latent Magical Ability

Overall, I have very little to complain about with S2 of Arcane, but there's a couple very, very small fixes I'd make as a writer to bring it more in line with how tightly written S1 is. Personally, I think the Arcane team either 1) opted for pacing over exposition in S2, which is a completely valid choice or 2) had some limitations in S1 as far as background lore (they hadn't decided how much to tie it into League yet as canon or as an AU) which is why some elements which are teased in S1 (the Gray, Mel's powers) don't get named or explained.

The reason I think Mel should have known about her latent magical powers from the beginnings is two-fold and based almost entirely in writing principles:

Audiences should be given the tools to at least have a chance to solve the mystery at the same time the characters do

It's more powerful when a character's fate is decided, directly or indirectly, by their own deliberate choices

In the case of point 1, we never really get a hint about Mel having any sort of power until the very last shot before the rocket hits her, there's a slight glow which could easily just be artistic flare.

In the case of point 2, Mel's bloodline is what makes her magical, a choice entirely out of her hands.

Personally, if I could do a few small tweaks to sort of bring Mel's story into focus, this is what I'd do:

Make Mel aware since childhood that she is a bastard who was conceived specifically for magical ability that her mother hoped would give House Medarda the edge against their mage enemies.

Have Mel's abilities not develop when she was a child, thus leading her to believe that the reason she was banished from House Medarda was because she failed her mother and her House (rather than to protect her, which was Ambessa's true goal).

Have Mel's banishment encourage her to become skilled in many other areas, like diplomacy, but still keenly feel the inadequacy of not being the weapon Ambessa wanted. (That way, we the audience have some prayer at correctly predicting what's going on with the glow of her tattoos in the last shot of S1, that she has finally come into her power as a mage during a moment of crisis.)

Make it clearer in the flashback to her childhood that the people Ambessa was fighting then were mages. Then, when the young girl (the "Symbol of the Old Regime") is killed, Mel will feel keenly how it is only her own bloodline that keeps her mother from killing her as well, making her question her safety and loyalties.

Let her talk to Jayce about how she grew up believing she had magical abilities, only to never have them develop. It would give her and Jayce one more thing to bond over, since he almost certainly wished he had innate power too after the Wizard saved him, hence why he turned to artificial means to develop the magic he could never develop genetically. (And oh, the irony of the fact the Wizard didn't have it either, it was always Viktor and Jayce gave him that power.)

Have Hextech be the thing that awakens Mel's powers. This one in particular drives me crazy. Mel is the first investor in Hextech, the first believer in it besides Jayce and Viktor. Have exposure to Hextech be something that magically changes her too, because of her deliberate, purposeful choices. Have her choices be why she is "touched by the Arcane." It's heavily implied but never stated or resolved that Hextech is wearing thin the veil between Arcane and reality in Piltover. Mel's close involvement with it should be the thing that triggered her latent powers, because then it's a deliberate action on her part that leads her to being kidnapped by the Rose once her powers awaken. It's no longer a coincidence caused by Jinx's rocket that developed her powers all at once.

By having proximity to Hextech be the thing that awakens Mel's powers, it also brings her story in line with the themes of the show, "Everyone's choices get them what they wanted, but not what they needed." All her life now, Mel wanted to develop the power her mother literally bore her to have. Now she has it and it's horrifying, and alien to her, and has changed the course of her life. In the end, she becomes Head of House Medarda with all the innate power she always dreamed of and it tastes like ashes in her mouth, because she needed to kill her mother to achieve it, and she must leave the city she loves and the independent life she crafted by her own hands behind, in what becomes a tragedy rather than random chance.

It also makes the mirrors and foils of Mel vs. Viktor much clearer. Jayce, in his desire to become the Wizard who saved him as a child through artificial means, has instead turned his two closest loved ones into the powerful mages he wanted to be. As it is, it seems coincidental that Jayce happened to pull two godlike powerful beings, which is unsatisfying, rather than it being the product of all of three of their deliberate choices to become involved with Hextech and how it changes the trio as a result.

It also reframes her support for Hextech weapons at first and then her opposition to it and her mother using Hextech as a weapon. At first, Mel wants to be a Medarda and make her mother proud, she feels keenly her own lack of magic and her inability to be the weapon her mother wanted, but Hextech promises to give magic to the people in a way she and Jayce both keenly feel because they can't access magic genetically. But once Mel develops her powers because of her exposure to Hextech "radiation", and learns how dangerous Hextech/magic can be through conversations with Jayce and seeing its impact on Piltover, she can now, as a mage, change her mind on the subject and decide to stand in opposition to her mother because this power is too dangerous to weaponize.

Again, I think the reason they didn't make this through-line more obvious was because they probably just didn't know what direction they wanted to take Mel in in S1, and then they decided to give her powers as well and it had to be some big secret birthright that got sprung on her to explain why she didn't know in S1. But it makes the story just a smidge less satisfying because the characters feel moved about by fate instead of by their own choices.

[ganondoodle]

(OC Lore and design time!)

(it got longer again ... sorry ... idk how to make things short, i just need to talk, but i guess if you can read the written stuff in the pic thats the barest bare bones of what i wrote here)

i was asked what new lore story stuff i had thought about that made me sad which i mentioned a bit ago, and while that is too hard to explain given all the missing context i thought i could at least talk about lore having to do with it :D

so, (Lord) Eadrya is one of my fav OCs (big blue lad, here a rough sketch in humanoid form) they are both one of if not THE most powerful demon alive and the most battle trained;

at the mid point of the story the demon world gets invaded by the celestials (the angel inspired things i talked about in the previous lore post with Xaror) and Shargon, as the king, should be their first and only frontline, but at this point his life is only being sustained by maschinery after being mortally wounded, he cannot fight (he realizes what is going on, rips himself off the maschinery to get at least his youngest child to safety, barely managing it before dying- the guardian, the demons god, takes over his body to attempt to fight against the celestials but cant keep itself alive long enough since its host is already dead) Eadrya takes the role of the frontline fighter (despite being very full of themselves and aggressive they care about their 'job' of protecting their own, also giving them the chance to show off just how strong they are); the fight was going well for them all things considered, but when the guardian activates it drains the power of all elemental lords (which Eadrya is one of, and since they have the most strength it also takes the most from them), so much so that they lose the fight and suffer deadly wounds (the worst being a spear through the chest made of a material that grows hard, root-like formations when in contact with demonic blood like a fungus but worse, also stopping any self healing processes) after the guardian falls apart it creates a huge shockwave of energy that stuns every living thing within a certain distance and possibly more-

Eadrya (in true demon form, so like a blue whale in size at least) was likely taken through an active gateway to the human world in a large tidal wave also created by the guardians fall; they wash up in the harbor of a small secluded village, the head of which is 'lady 13'; although never having seen a demon before and everyone being afraid (largely thinking its a strange hurt animal, only she suspected otherwise), they still gather all villagers to pull out the celestial spear, which is diffcult and brutal given that its already taken root, but the village lacked both knowledge and means to help any other way- doing so damaged their heart which is how they were able to collect samples of all three demonic blood types ('normal' -red like humans-, energy -essentially purely magic- and heartblood -highly concentrated energy only found within the heart of a demon and the only one to contain genetic material) (this is the start of Eadryas character arc, having to deal with the fact that their world is likely destroyed, them failing what they didnt think they could fail, having lost a battle so badly (even if not really their fault) for the first time and not knowing if literally anyone else has survived .. also being now stuck in the human world, which they dont like)

Lady 13 (placeholder name? stands for experiment 13) is a human that was tricked by demon hunters to enroll into a series of experiments trying to create hybrids of demons and humans, which they hoped would be powerful and easily controllable tools for their endeavours, though the two are inherently not compatible, they tried grafting body parts of demons on humans to make them compatible- all experiments failed except for her, more or less, though she never got to see the hybrid she carried and was then told it had died too, they threw her out believing she wouldnt survive much longer either and all such experiments were cancelled due to the high cost of human life, research material (demons are still rare) and upkeep with no successful results Lady 13 survived though (perhaps even via the pirates picking her up?) and she ended up living in said small village far away, hiding her half demonic body, though most know there soemthing 'wrong' with her (her being this tall when it doesnt fit the rest for one), only few know the full extent; she enjoys the life she has now, perhaps on the more poor side but safer and more loved than ever before; she largely lead the efforts to try and help Eadrya when they ended up in the harbor, though there wasnt that much anyone could do it was still enough- they leave immediately after waking up, but return after really having nowhere to go and struggling to deal with everything that has happened; over time (probably years) they start to open up towards the people there (though not .. very much) enough to get rather close with Lady 13 too- she actually falls madly in love but after Eadrya (extremely aro/ace) rejects all her attempts quite clearly she respects their boundaries

However, after hearing news of potential demon sightings Eadrya decides to leave in hopes of not being the last demon left after all; Lady 13 then decides to reveal her secret to them (though hearing and seeing what lengths hunters would go to for their experiments makes them absolutely seething with rage- she insists on not being out for revenge) and asks if they would be willing to donate a small amount of heartblood; shes always wanted to be a mother but is now incompatible with humans too- through things she picked up back at the experiments facillity, hers and her doctors research she is sure that is all that is needed, she dares to ask since she does not know when, if ever, she will meet another demon, much less one she could actually trust enough for this though Eadrya hesitates (why would she want to go through the same thing again that didnt work and threatened her life, if it does work, do they want to be involved with any of this? what if hunters find out it worked after all?) but after her ensuring that they would have no part in it other than giving up a little blood and would not be considered a parent in any way, nor made responsible for anything that might happen to her, but considering it all in the end they agree to it

only for her to reveal shes had a small bottle of it already, along with multiple samples of the other types, which she collected when Eadrya was bleeding out into the harbor not knowing if they will survive, though not wanting to make use of it without their consent either way (they are actuallly rather touched by this)

alot later the main group returns here and it turns out to have worked (though she is unable to walk/bedridden for a long while bc it did alot of damage to her body, which can heal since its demons parts, but only really slowly bc she does not have a full functioning system and no demonic blood of her own -she uses the other samples for the healing process-) though its a little awkward to explain, especially considering that 13.1 took alot after Eadrya xD (their theory as to why it worked so "well" that time is that even though the sample was already taken, them giving their consent for it still made it less likely to be rejected; demons dont need partners to have offspring, and all can do it, they just have to decide to- so them agreeing to it, even though its long been outside their body, still had an effect on the blood sample)

[l2vedive]

FROM THE ASHES w. hansol vernon chwe

supernatural horror au + childhood best friends (5.8k)

SUMMARY: in which you and hansol reunite ten years later to face the horrors of the past that left you both scarred and haunted. (reader and hansol centric)

pairing: hansol vernon chwe x fem!reader

featuring: lee chan of seventeen & lee nakyung of fromis

genres: SLOWBURN, angst, kinda horror, supernatural, action, childhood best friends w trauma, set in the 80s

warning(s): crazy amounts of lore, so much slowburn, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of violence, character death

notes: wrote this purely for my own entertainment after replaying the game the other day. this is inspired by two games actually! it has elements of choices' book called it lives in the woods and romance club's shadows of saintfour. this has some heavy lore but i've done my best to break down most of it so you guys can understand it without playing ♡

if you liked this read, please don't forget to reblog with your thoughts and give it a like !

i. bravery.

it’s late in the evening, and the air feels heavy. you’re standing in front of the old house, the one that’s always felt both like a home and a prison. your small hands are trembling as you clutch the hem of your jacket, eyes scanning the darkened street outside, the distant sounds of the city muffled by the thick fog that has rolled in. you’ve been told not to go out past sunset, that the pisadeira—that thing from the nightmares—will get you. but your mother has been distant for weeks, locked in a room, her eyes wide with fear, always watching the shadows like they’re waiting for something to come.

you know you’re not supposed to be out here. you know the stories. everyone does. don’t go near the flowers. don’t look into the darkness. don’t listen to the whispers. but your feet move before you can think about it, the pull of the unknown stronger than any fear you’ve ever felt. you cross the threshold into the garden, the flowers there too large, too bright, almost alive. your heart races as the petals glisten like they’ve been touched by some forbidden magic, their beauty something both inviting and dangerous.

it’s then that you hear it—the soft voice, like the rustle of leaves in the wind, and you freeze. "come closer."

your breath catches in your throat. you don’t know why you don’t run.

ii. cowardice

hansol is young, barely a year older than you, but already carrying a weight in his chest that most kids his age wouldn’t understand. he doesn’t like to talk about it, the feeling—the one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he’s alone in the dark. it’s not fear, exactly, more like a sense that something should be there. a presence. a pressure. something pulling at him from the shadows.

his family has always moved around. never staying in one place too long. too many unanswered questions about his father’s work, too many late nights with hushed conversations. hansol never really thought it was strange, until that one night. the one when he was alone in his room, playing with his toy cars, and he felt the air change. the floorboards creaked under someone’s weight—someone who wasn’t there.

the whispers started soon after. he couldn’t remember when, but they were always there, following him like a second shadow, calling him to the dark corners of the house. come closer. i’m waiting.

he told no one. even when his mother came in to check on him that night, he lied, said everything was fine. but deep down, hansol knew something was wrong. there was something in the dark, something that waited for the right moment to pull him under.

iii. small

the bell rings, and you’re at the gates of the middle school, your heart thumping in your chest for reasons you can’t explain. hansol is standing at the edge of the crowd, his usual stoic expression softening when he sees you. he waves shyly, like he always does, and you can’t help but smile back.

“hey, hansol,” you say, walking up to him with a grin. “you know what’s worse than studying for a pop quiz?”

he raises an eyebrow, the faintest spark of interest in his eyes. “what?”

“studying for a pop quiz with the teacher standing over your shoulder,” you say, laughing at the face he makes. “you’d think they’d give us a break.”

he tries to keep it in, but the smile breaks out anyway, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. it’s small, but you notice. “you’re a terrible influence,” he says with a shake of his head, but you can see the fondness in his eyes. inside, his chest flutters, and it’s the kind of flutter he wants to squash. but he can’t, not when you’re standing so close, your laughter light in the air, something unspoken between you both.

iv. sleepover

the annual sleepover at your house is always the most anticipated event of the year. even now, with the haunted past of saintfour hanging over your shoulders, it feels like something that should bring comfort. something normal. but things feel different this time.

hansol is the first to arrive, as always, but this time, there’s an unease in his eyes, a look that doesn’t quite belong in a child his age. he brushes it off when you greet him with a teasing smile, ruffling his hair as he steps inside. a small girl follows behind him and you swoop her up in your arms.

"it's not funny, you know," he mutters, brushing off your hand, but the corners of his lips twitch.

“gyul thinks it is, right?” you giggle and so does she, mirroring every expression you make.

hansol rolls his eyes and takes her from you so you could go and get things settled for the others.

as the night wears on after putting the youngest attendee to bed, you and your friends, hansol included, settle into the living room. nakyung is the first to start whispering, chan and hansol are too wrapped up in their snacks and games to notice that the air around you all is growing thicker, heavier.

“hey, do you guys feel that?” you ask, glancing around the room. your voice is shaky, uncertain, but they all brush it off.

“it’s just the storm outside,” nakyung laughs, waving it off. “you’re imagining it.”

but you know what you feel. the chill in the air is different. unnatural. and then you hear it. the soft whispers again, curling around you like smoke. come closer. it’s time to wake up.

before you can react, you feel it—something cold, something sharp, dragging its claws down your neck.

“no!” you scream, stumbling back, but the pain is overwhelming. the petals of the flowers from your nightmares begin to fall, drifting like snowflakes, but the touch of them is suffocating. you gasp, trying to push them away, but it’s no use.

“help! someone help her—!”

your vision dims, everything turning dark as the pain intensifies. you feel yourself slipping, your body falling against the ground as your breath catches in your throat. and then, everything goes black.

when you wake, you find a scar on your neck—a mark of the night you almost didn’t survive. the petals, though, are gone. the whispers are silent. but you can still feel it. she’s still here.

v. whispers

it’s been ten years. a decade of silence. no phone calls, no texts, no letters. you’ve gone your separate ways, drifting through life without the familiar presence of hansol, nakyung, or the others. it’s as if the past—the horrors of saintfour—were a shared dream that none of you wanted to remember. and yet, here you are, standing in the same auditorium once again, the weight of that history pressing down on your chest.

you sit in the crowd of new and old faces, the orientation assembly unfolding in front of you like any typical college event. there’s laughter, excitement, and the usual pre-university buzz in the air. you know hansol is somewhere in the crowd, though you can’t bring yourself to search for him. you feel the pull of your past, that strange, unexplainable tug, but you push it down. this is your fresh start. you won’t let the pisadeira ruin it.

but then, the lights flicker.

it’s subtle at first, just a quick blink, a brief interruption in the otherwise seamless flow of the assembly. no one else seems to notice, but your heart skips a beat. something’s wrong.

the smell of wildflowers invades the air. not the delicate, sweet fragrance of a bouquet—no, this is sharp, invasive, almost suffocating.

not again.

your pulse spikes as the familiar voice drifts into your mind, soft, like a breath against your skin. come closer, (your name).

it’s her. she’s here.

you try to steady your breath, your hands trembling as the whispers grow louder, more insistent, more malicious. i’ve waited for you. don’t run away.

your vision blurs, the room spinning as you struggle to stay grounded in the present. you glance around quickly, desperate to find someone who isn’t caught in the same trap. but everyone else is oblivious, lost in the crowd, unaware of the danger lurking at the edge of your perception.

except hansol, who locks eyes with you. he knows.

you’re back in it. back in the nightmare you thought you escaped.

vi. reawakening

it’s the third week of college when he knocks on your door. hansol. standing in the hallway, looking exactly as you remember, but older, quieter. his eyes are darker now, shadowed by years of things unsaid, but they still hold the same familiarity. you’re caught off guard, unsure of how to react. you weren’t expecting this, not after ten years.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, trying to mask the shock that’s creeping up your throat.

he hesitates before answering, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “your parents blame me,” he says quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “and I’ve accepted it.”

the words hang heavy in the air, a confession of guilt, an admission of the years he’s spent with that weight on his shoulders. your stomach churns, a mix of anger and sadness rising up. how could they? how could they blame him for something neither of you could control?

you swallow, trying to process everything, but all you can think of is the way hansol looks so small now, so paralysed by the memories of things that shouldn’t be real. you’re reminded of the times when you both stood on the precipice of danger, and you couldn’t protect him. you couldn’t fight back against the monsters that seemed so real.

but you will now.

a fire stirs in your chest, something deep inside you that makes you want to protect him this time. this time, you’ll fight.

you find yourself tracking him, watching from the corners of campus, noting the places he frequents when the weekend comes. you never ask him where he’s going—never question it—but you always seem to find the empty seat next to him, always make sure to sit there when no one else does.

he doesn’t question it at first, but soon, he gives you a sideways glance, his gaze sharp but unreadable. “why didn’t you ask me first?”

you shrug, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “didn’t think I needed to.”

and he doesn’t question how you found him, either. perhaps he’s just relieved to have you there, even if he doesn’t admit it. but his silence is heavy, and you know there’s more to his avoidance than he’s letting on. there always is with hansol.

you’re back in each other’s lives now, and you can feel the weight of what’s coming. you both know it’s not over. it never was. but maybe, just maybe, this time, you won’t be alone.

vii. dive

the party hums with energy, laughter, and loud music, but hansol is nowhere near the centre of it. you find him by the garden, crouched by a patch of daisies, plucking their petals with deliberate precision. with each one, he tosses it lightly into the nearby pool, watching as they float and swirl on the water’s surface.

“you know, that’s supposed to be romantic,” you tease, crossing your arms as you approach. “daisies in a pool? what’s the occasion?”

he glances up at you, his expression unreadable but familiar. “just thought it was nice. peaceful, you know?”

“peaceful? at a party?” you ask, tilting your head. “didn’t think you’d even show up to something like this.”

“figured it’d be less lonely,” he replies, brushing a stray petal from his hand. “knowing the people I grew up with would be here, even if I’m not exactly a part of it.”

you blink, caught off guard by his honesty, but you quickly recover. “well, you’ve got company now,” you say lightly, sitting down on the edge of the pool beside him.

the conversation shifts to small talk, catching up on little details about classes, professors, and the mundane chaos of college life. hansol doesn’t say much, but when he does, his words are careful, thoughtful. he seems more at ease out here, away from the crowd.

then, david bowie’s modern love starts playing from the speakers, the familiar beat making your foot tap instinctively. you nudge his shoulder, a playful grin spreading across your face. “come on. dance with me.”

he leans back slightly, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “me? dancing out there? maybe you should ask chan. he’d love to dance with you.”

you roll your eyes, laughing, but you pause to search his face. there’s no hint of jealousy, no hard feelings—just a quiet acceptance, as if he’s fine watching from the sidelines. reassured, you rise and wave over chan, who doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand and spin you in a dramatic twirl that makes you laugh out loud.

soon, you’re in the middle of a lively group, dancing like you’ve known each other for years. you fit right in, your energy infectious, your smile bright.

from the edge of the garden, hansol watches you. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes.. you’re the same as you’ve always been. plucky, bold, unafraid to dive into life headfirst.

some things never change, he thinks, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile.

viii. reverse

study hall is quiet, save for the soft rustle of papers and the occasional tapping of pens against wooden desks. you’ve claimed a corner of the room, surrounded by textbooks and open tabs on your laptop—not for your upcoming pop quiz, but for something far more unsettling.

“pisadeira,” you mutter under your breath, scrolling through yet another article on the folklore.

“still on about that?”

you startle at the voice, looking up to see hansol standing there holding a takeout paper bag for iced americanos without waiting for an invitation, he sets the bag down and slides into the seat next to you.

“you’re supposed to be studying,” he says, nodding toward the pile of notes sprawled across your desk.

“and you’re supposed to avoid this topic,” you counter, narrowing your eyes. “why are you even here?”

he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “figured you’d need a distraction.”

you scoff, though the sight of him flipping through your notes catches you off guard. hansol hasn’t willingly spoken about the pisadeira since that night ten years ago, and seeing him this invested stirs something uneasy in you.

“you never wanted to talk about her before,” you say, your voice quieter now. “why the sudden interest?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on one of your highlighted sections. “because she’s not just in your head,” he finally says.

you grit your teeth, frustration bubbling up. “i had another nightmare about her,” you admit. “last week. it was—” you pause, shaking your head. “it felt so real.”

“it’s just a dream,” he says firmly, turning to face you. “you’ll be ready if it happens again. we both will.”

his words are meant to comfort you, but they only add to the weight you already feel. you let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples. “you know, sometimes I wish I could just live a normal college life. no nightmares, no supernatural shit, just classes, lazy and terror professors in between and stupid long exams that require all nighters.”

hansol chuckles softly, the sound breaking the tension between you. “if all else fails,” he says after a moment, “you can always swing by my place in the future and help me with boring work stuff.”

you smile faintly, glancing down at your notes. “i might just take you up on that,” you say softly.

for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

ix. time

the sorority house is alive with music and chatter, fairy lights strung across the ceiling casting a soft glow over the room. it’s the first party of the semester you’ve hosted, and your sorority sisters flit around the space, greeting guests and pulling people onto the makeshift dance floor. the air smells faintly of sweet cocktails and the flowers you’d arranged on every table earlier, a hollow attempt to lighten your unease.

it’s been two months since you last dreamt of the pisadeira. the quiet should be a relief, but it isn’t. not when reports have started to trickle through campus about students collapsing, choking on petals of purple flowers and other strange remains. she’s here, you know it, even if she hasn’t come for you yet. but why?

your stomach tightens, not from the pisadeira’s absence but from the creeping feeling of not belonging. this isn’t your scene, no matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise. you’re smiling, laughing, blending in, but for the first time, you feel out of place.

you force the thoughts away, telling yourself this party is meant to be a distraction. another night to blend in, to laugh and pretend like you don’t have a target painted on your back. nakyung has been doing her best to keep you entertained, introducing you to some of the boys she brought along, but none of them hold your attention. they’re polite, but their smiles are shallow, their conversation uninteresting.

“come on, smile,” nakyung whispers, nudging you with her elbow as she gestures toward a small group of guys lingering by the makeshift bar. “they’re cute, right? you should at least try.”

you force a smile, but it feels brittle. “they’re not my type.”

“you don’t have a type,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “you’re just being stubborn.”

as nakyung drifts off to entertain someone else, you take a deep breath, your stomach knotting tighter with every passing second. the truth is, this isn’t your scene. it never has been. tonight, you feel the weight of that reality more than ever.

you glance around, catching sight of hansol by the snack table. he’s pouring himself a drink, looking more like a ghost than a guest.

he’s been here for five minutes, maybe less, and already he’s drifted to the edge of the room. across the hall, hansol is doing his best to blend into the wallpaper. chan had promised this party would be fun, nudging him along with a grin as they arrived. but as soon as they entered, chan was gone, disappearing into the crowd to charm strangers.

hansol doesn’t join him. he never does. instead, he hugs the corner of the party, his fingers curling nervously around the rim of his glass. his stomach churns, not from the punch but from the persistent tug of unease that’s been gnawing at him all evening. the music thrums against his chest like a second heartbeat, and yet he feels like he’s the only one moving in slow motion, the clock dragging its hands with agonising patience.

he’s by the snack table you meticulously laid out earlier, his shoulders hunched. hansol feels like an afterthought here, a placeholder for a party that doesn’t need him.

he glances at his watch, willing the minutes to pass faster, his chest tight with unease. it’s not the party that’s getting to him, though. it’s the clock. it feels like a countdown to something you can’t name, but every second that ticks by only makes him feel sicker.

he looks in a hurry. like he’s chasing time, trying to outrun something.

and then, as if sensing your curiosity, his gaze finds yours across the room.

you’re across the room, framed by the warm glow of fairy lights, your expression distant. for a moment, he wonders if you’re as uncomfortable as he is. when your eyes meet, it’s like the noise of the crowd fades into the background.

you smile—a small, fleeting gesture, but genuine.

he wants to smile back, to walk over, to say something, anything. but the moment stretches too long.

he doesn’t move, and neither do you

instead, you turn away, letting the crowd swallow you back up. hansol stays rooted to the spot, watching as you slip back into the crowd, a forced laugh on your lips as nakyung waves you over to meet another new face. hansol watches as you disappear into the sea of faces, his grip tightening around the cup in his hand.

somewhere in the corner of your mind, you replay the brief encounter, wondering why your heart clenched in that strange, familiar way. for a second, you’d felt tethered, but now the party feels lonelier than ever.

maybe he could’ve walked over, said something, done anything, if he didn’t already know what was coming.

but he does.

he looks at his glass, his reflection faintly visible in the surface of the drink. for a moment, he swears he sees something ripple beneath it, a flicker of purple that disappears the second he blinks.

x. pisadeira

the ruins reek of blood and decay, the air thick with the copper tang of the pisadeira's end. your dress clings to your skin, sodden with sweat, dirt, and her blood—so dark it looks black under the moonlight. your breathing is laboured, each inhale a desperate attempt to find clarity, but there is none to be found.

"leave them," hansol says, voice sharp as a whip, pulling you away from the remains of her carnage. the “dogs”—summoned guardians nakyung had managed to control—snarl and lunge at the creatures spilling into the ruins, their teeth gleaming like moonlit steel. "we have to go."

"we can’t just—" you start, but he grips your arm, the pressure of his fingers like iron.

"there’s no time!"

the urgency in his tone silences you, but the unease in your gut only grows as he pulls you, nakyung, and chan into the woods. branches claw at your ruined dress as you stumble after him, feet numb from the cold. the shadows seem alive, writhing like snakes in your periphery. hansol moves with a singular purpose, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

you glance back at chan and nakyung. chan’s face is pale, his usual easygoing charm replaced with grim determination. nakyung looks shaken, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she follows without question.

"hansol," you say, your voice trembling. "what’s going on? where are we going?"

"somewhere safe," he says, but there’s a crack in his voice, a crack you don’t miss.

"safe?" nakyung repeats, her tone laced with suspicion. "what do you mean safe? safe from what?"

"just trust me," hansol says, not looking back.

you want to trust him. god, you want to trust him. but something about the way he moves, the way his hand keeps brushing the pocket of his jacket, makes your heart pound with something other than exertion.

the forest thickens, the trees closing in around you like skeletal fingers. the air grows colder, the smell of wildflowers creeping into your nostrils. your steps falter.

"hansol," you whisper, panic threading your voice. "she’s here, isn’t she? the pisadeira’s not—"

"it’s not her," he cuts you off, his voice low and haunted. "not anymore."

you stop in your tracks. "what do you mean?"

he turns to face you, and for the first time, you see it—the torment, the guilt, the unbearable weight he’s been carrying.

"hangyul," he says, his voice breaking. "it’s my sister."

the world tilts and you feel like the wind’s knocked you off of your feet. "what?" you breathe, stepping back.

"she’s the one," he says, his voice trembling with the effort to stay steady. "the one who’s been hunting us. the one who’s been killing them."

"no," you say, shaking your head. "no, that’s not—she’s dead, hansol. she’s been dead for ten years."

"because of you," he snaps, the venom in his tone slicing through you. "because you failed to save her. because you let pisadeira take her."

the accusation hits like a physical blow, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

"that’s not fair!" nakyung interjects, stepping forward. "you know it’s not her fault."

"isn’t it?" hansol says, his eyes locking onto yours, sharp and unyielding. "she was the one who insisted we stay in that house. the one who convinced us it wasn’t real. and now my sister—she was innocent ! ” hansol turns to you, exasperated and eyes blurred with anger. “you turned her into a monster."

"she wasn’t your sister anymore," you say, your voice trembling. "not after what the pisadeira did to her. you know that."

"and you think that makes it easier?" he shouts, his composure shattering. "you think that makes it any less my responsibility to save her now?"

"save her?" chan echoes, his voice sharp with disbelief. "by doing what, hansol? what are you planning?"

silence falls, heavy and suffocating. hansol’s hand moves to his pocket, and when it emerges, it holds a knife.

"no," you whisper, your blood turning to ice.

"i’m sorry," he says, his voice hollow. "but this is the only way."

"you’re not making any sense!" you scream, backing away. "hansol, stop ! "

but he doesn’t stop. he steps forward, his grip on the knife tightening.

"i can’t let her keep suffering," he says, his voice breaking. "and i can’t let her come for you again. if i have to end this—if i have to hurt you to save her—then so be it."

"you’re insane," nakyung spits, stepping between you. "you think killing her—killing us—is going to fix anything? you’re just as much a monster as she is!"

"hansol, please," you say, your voice cracking. "don’t do this. we can find another way."

but he shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. "there is no other way. i have to end this. i have to end her."

and then he lunges.

your survival instincts take over, your body moving before your mind can catch up. you grab a fallen branch, swinging it with all your strength. the knife slices through the air, grazing your arm before you manage to knock it from his grip.

"traitor," you hiss, your voice filled with betrayal and heartbreak. "you brought us here. you led us into this."

"because i had to," he says, his voice breaking. "you don’t understand—"

"then make me understand!" you scream, the weight of ten years of pain and regret crashing down on you.

but he doesn’t answer. instead, he stumbles back, his hand clutching his side where your makeshift weapon struck.

"hansol," nakyung says, her voice trembling. "don’t make us do this. please."

he doesn’t respond. instead, he looks at you, his eyes filled with an agony you can’t begin to comprehend.

when the knife finally finds your back, the betrayal hurts more than the sting of the blade.

xi. bravery

the room is a warzone of exhaustion and regret, every shadow crawling with the remnants of what had just unfolded. nakyung and chan lie unconscious but breathing, their bodies splayed across the cold stone floor like broken dolls. the silence that follows is heavier than the chaos it replaced. the spirit of the pisadeira looms ahead, a gnarled figure of fury and vengeance, her form almost too grotesque to look at directly. but your eyes are drawn instead to hangyul’s ghost—her face streaked with spectral tears, her cries thin and keening, a sound that seems to reverberate inside your chest.

your body is screaming at you to stop, to lay down and give in to the pain radiating from your back where hansol’s knife had found you earlier. you clutch the wound with trembling fingers, sticky with blood, but your legs stay steady beneath you. barely.

hansol moves towards you like a puppet with its strings cut, dragging his feet as though the weight of his guilt has made it impossible to walk properly. his face is pale, streaked with sweat and grime, his eyes hollow and faraway. when he finally stands in front of you, you see a boy unravelling, a man drowning in the consequences of his choices.

he whispers, “i’m sorry,” but the words fall into the abyss between you, too light to matter now.

you can feel the fury bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill over. “sorry?” your voice trembles with anger and anguish. “you think that fixes this? you think that fixes her?” you gesture to hangyul’s ghost, to the weeping figure of the sister he’s chased after for so long.

his head dips low, his shame radiating like heat. “everything I did… was for her,” he says, his voice cracking. “i thought—i thought if i gave her what she wanted, if i made it right—”

“you betrayed us,” you cut him off, your voice sharper than you mean it to be. “you betrayed me, hansol.”

the words land like blows, and he flinches visibly.

but then you see it—the way his hands shake, the way his lips press together as though holding back a sob. he doesn’t want to fight anymore. he doesn’t want to keep running.

and despite everything—despite the knife in your back, the blood on his hands—you see the boy you grew up with, the boy who once handed you the last piece of bread during a sleepover, who once told you your laugh was louder than the cicadas.

“you can’t fix this by throwing yourself into it,” you say, softer this time. “don’t you see? the pisadeira doesn’t want justice, hansol. she wants suffering. she’ll take you, and it’ll never end.”

he looks at you then, truly looks at you, and you can see the cracks in him deepening. “then what am i supposed to do?”

you glance at hangyul’s ghost, her ethereal form flickering, fading in and out like a candle struggling to stay lit. your mind is racing, calculating the options. the pisadeira’s form trembles, growing impatient, her sharp, distorted voice rasping through the air.

“one soul,” she hisses. “one soul to replace the one lost. a fair trade.”

hansol starts to step forward, his movements deliberate, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“no,” you say firmly.

“(your name), please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “this is my fault. let me fix it.”

“if you want to fix it, you stay alive,” you snap, your breath hitching from the sharp pain in your back. “you stay alive, and you remember this. you live with it. and you make it mean something.”

he stares at you, wide-eyed, as you step past him. your body feels like it’s made of lead, every movement torturing him, but you don’t stop. before he can stop you, you turn and step toward the pisadeira, the wound in your side burning like fire, your legs trembling but unyielding. the creature watches you with a twisted smile, her skeletal fingers outstretched. hangyul’s ghost weeps behind her, mouthing a silent plea for you to stop.

“no!” hansol lunges forward, grabbing your arm, but you wrench yourself free. you feel hansol’s scream more than you hear it, but you don’t turn back. bravery is all you have left.

"let her go," you say, your voice clear and strong. "take me instead.".

“don’t make me watch this again,” you hear hansol plead, his voice desperate, tears streaking his face. “please, (your name). don’t—”

“it has to end. you told me yourself. this happened because of me.” you say, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. “so it will end with me too.”

you step into the circle at the centre of the room, where the ritual had been poised to complete with hansol’s sacrifice. the pisadeira snarls, her twisted face splitting into something that might have been a grin.

you glance back at hansol one last time, your eyes meeting his. you see the devastation there, the love, the regret. and for a brief moment, you smile. “be brave and live well, hansol,” you tell him. a tear falls and you can’t bear the thought of looking back and seeing him broken.

you see hangyul’s ghost move closer, her lips forming the words "thank you." before she vanishes like a light. at the same time, the pisadeira’s grin widens as her claws pierce your chest, the pain white-hot and all-encompassing. as the darkness closes in.

and then, nothing.

xii. cowardice

when the silence falls, it is not the peaceful kind. it is the suffocating quiet of loss, the heavy weight of a world newly broken. hansol’s knees give out beneath him, and he crumples onto the cold, uneven ground. his head falls into his hands, shaking as sobs tear from his throat.

"no," he whispers hoarsely, his voice trembling and thin. "no, no, no…"

the ruins are bathed in an eerie stillness, illuminated only by the dim glow of the moon. nakyung and chan stir on the floor, groaning faintly as they start to come to, but they are not awake enough to witness the wreckage left behind. hansol feels the briefest flicker of relief that they’re alive—alive, because of you—but it is fleeting, swallowed by the sight of you lying motionless, your body crumpled on the stone floor, your skin pale and cold to the touch.

this is his doing.

"it wasn’t supposed to be this way," he rasps, his hands trembling as he cups your face, brushing his thumb against your clammy cheek. he pulls you close, his tears falling onto your lifeless skin. "you weren’t supposed to—" his voice breaks, and he clutches you tighter, as though holding you close might bring you back.

the sound of sirens pierces the distance, their wailing cry growing louder with each second. hansol freezes, his chest heaving as panic sets in. he can’t be seen here. not like this. not holding your body, your blood on his hands, his knife discarded somewhere in the wreckage.

they’ll blame him. they should blame him.

"no, not like this," he whispers, his hands shaking as he gently lowers your body back onto the ground. his fingers brush your hair away from your face, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in every detail of you—the softness of your features, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the faint traces of the bravery you wore so fiercely etched into your expression.

a daisy lies nearby, untouched amidst the chaos, and he picks it up with trembling fingers. carefully, he tucks it into your hair, his movements deliberate and tender, as though this small act might undo the horrors of the night.

"i’m sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking. "i’m so sorry."

the sirens are close now, too close. hansol’s heart pounds in his chest as he looks at you one last time, memorising every detail, every part of you that he couldn’t save.

and then he runs.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐢𝐫 - Part 1

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairings: Alastor x female reader Summary: During a night out at a club with the hotel crew, you enjoy dancing and drinking with Angel while Alastor remains visibly uncomfortable in the lounge area. Seeking distraction from your conflicted feelings towards him, you connect with another woman, which quickly escalates into an embarrassing situation. This forces you to question not only your emotions but also the true nature of your complicated relationship with Alastor. Warnings/Tags: female reader, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, kissing, reader is bisexual and makes out with another woman, Alastor gets jealous, Alastor is bad at feelings so instead of communicating his jealousy he decides to taunt reader, second hand embarrassment Wordcount: 4.4k A/N: I can’t believe it – I’ve finally managed to write a new story! It has a second part that’s almost finished and will be posted at the end of the month. If you’d like to be tagged when it’s up, just let me know! Fun fact about this story: It includes lore about my OC Mara, as the circumstances under which the reader meets Selena are the same as those in which Mara encounters her best friend in my AU! Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

   The club was packed with bodies and the colorful neon lights flickered in time with the relentless beat of electronic music. Loud chatter and the pounding bass around him formed an unbearable cacophony that made Alastor cringe inwardly. He despised the modern scene and its noise, the crowds and overall lack of refinement. It was far from his idea of a pleasant evening. Oh, how much he hated to be here. Stressed and feeling completely out of place, Alastor sat in the lounge area of one of Pentagram City's most notorious clubs, his grin strained, his ears perked up and a much too sweet cocktail in his hand. If it wasn’t for his gloves, the whitened knuckles from his heavy grip around the glass would’ve been apparent even from afar. He hadn’t intended to come here and would’ve preferred to stay at the hotel, settling himself in front of his fireplace with a good book and fine jazz in the background. Honestly, he would’ve even preferred to clean the entire hotel over being forced to spend his time in this establishment which felt as wrong as a walk through the Vee’s district. It was Angel Dust who had brought up the idea of this excursion, promising a wild night of fun and debauchery to blow off some steam. The other residents had barely hesitated, convinced by the idea of spending a night out together. To Alastor’s biggest disapproval, they had insisted on him to accompany them. Not that they would’ve had the power to convince him to leave the tranquility of the quiet hotel behind for such a cacophony of modern entertainment that could be the product of one of his nightmares – no. It was you who had convinced him in the end. You were just too persistent and persuasive, and he was just too taken with you to refuse after such big eyes begged him to join.

   You, on the other side, enjoyed the evening. You were completely in your element, dressed up in a tight but elegant cocktail dress and exuding confidence as if you owned this place. Together with Angel Dust, you dominated the dance floor with fluid and inhibited movements, your arms held up in the air while you swung your hips to the rhythm of the music. You quickly became the center of attention, especially for Alastor who couldn’t help but watch you from his secluded spot, a mix of admiration and irritation flickering in his otherwise unreadable eyes. How he admired your confidence, your ability to let loose in such an uncomfortable and overstimulating place, reveling in the atmosphere with such vivid enthusiasm. Yet, the feelings he held for you were a secret, cautiously buried beneath the layers of his Radio Demon persona. 

   “Come on, Smiles, loosen up and have some fun,” Angel Dust suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts, and Alastor snapped his head in his direction, raising his eyebrows at the spider demon. When did he leave the dance floor? As Alastor glanced at him, he noticed a small tray with half a dozen shots in his hands. Angel must have left for the bar to get drinks for himself and the others. If he really thought he could convince Alastor to indulge in this kind of modern entertainment, he was delusional.

   Without a word, Alastor rolled his eyes and waved him off, his gaze drifting back to you before he got aware that Angel Dust still stood beside him and turned his attention to the glass in his hand.

   The spider demon let out a deep sigh. “Alright. Haven’t expected anything else,” he murmured and walked on, but not without placing one of the full shot glasses on the small table in front of Alastor and disappearing before Alastor could say something. He watched Angel Dust return to the dance floor, heading directly towards you. Then he stared at the shot glass and raised his eyebrow, clear liquor grinning back at him. With a sigh that was impossible to hear under the loud noise other people dared to call ‘music’, he took it in his hand and downed the substance in one gulp. A spicy burn seared in his throat, making him cough. At least the shot was tolerable…

   You had the time of your afterlife. Increasingly intoxicated after downing one drink after another you danced in the crowd, hips swaying vividly to the music with such unrestrained joy you haven’t felt in a long time. It was a good idea to agree to Angel’s suggestion to go partying. You didn't know that you needed this until you had arrived and he dragged you to the bar almost immediately to get ready for a night of reckless debauchery. You haven’t left the dance floor since you’ve emptied your first longdrink and probably won’t within predictable time because Angel Dust served you with new drinks almost every quarter of an hour.

   You watched your friend worm himself through the crowd, skillfully avoiding contact with any of the other guests, balancing the tray high above his head while he shielded himself from accidental punches with his second set of arms. When he arrived, he placed the tray on a high bar table not far from you. Still entranced by the music you danced your way over to him.

   “Damn, you really want to mess me up, huh?”, you joked as you noticed the amount of shots he got and Angel shrugged his shoulders.

   “Lil’ stock supply will prevent me from fighting myself over to the bar for at least another half an hour,” he responded, handing you a shot glass and taking one for himself.

   A laugh escaped your throat and you praised him for his genius idea with a quick wink. “Then let’s hope no one will spike them when we look away.” With that, you raised your shot glass in a quick toast and downed the clear liquor with high anticipation, a cough escaping you as the spicy alcohol burned down your throat. Dry Ouzo. Tasty, but like fire in the stomach.

   Angel chuckled at your reaction, clearly unaffected due to his regular club nights with Cherri.

   “Hey man, thanks for the drinks!” a random stranger exclaimed over the music, boldly snatching two shots away and disappearing in the crowd as fast as he had appeared.

   “And so the stock runs out,” Angel Dust deadpanned with an annoyed expression, staring with narrowed eyes in the direction the shot thief took their leave.

   You snorted through your nose, erupting in wholehearted laughter at his reaction, and shrugged your shoulders. “Looks like you’ll have to return to the bar sooner than anticipated,” you mocked him with a smirk, patting one of his lower shoulder joints.

   “Hmpf…” Without another word, Angel took another shot and downed it right after.

   You and Angel Dust spend some time just standing at the bar table, chatting with raised voices and watching the other guests while you commented on their dancing styles or played a sheepish game of ‘fuck, marry, kill’ with random strangers you pointed out from the crowd.

   After what was about an hour, you cleared your throat. “I need to go to the bathroom. After that, I’ll head to the bar and get myself a soda,” you informed Angel, and he nodded in acknowledgment. Pushing yourself up from the table, you navigated through the crowds, the effect of almost half a dozen shots clearly affecting your vision and balance. It wasn’t too debilitating because your body could handle large amounts of alcohol easily, but you still felt uncomfortable and needed some time to steady yourself and return to your senses. Some non-alcoholic drinks might work wonders to ease the symptoms. You're bound to face a brutal hangover tomorrow anyway.

   After you returned from the bathrooms you walked over to the bar, ordering a simple soda from the barkeeper. You thanked him as he handed you your non-alcoholic drink and leaned with your back against the bar counter. As you took a few gulps, your gaze wandered around the club and a sigh escaped your throat. It was an awesome evening though different from what you expected. You actually had planned to take it easy and not indulge in such debauchery. But Angel had claimed you as soon as you entered the club, dragging you away from the group and lulling you to loosen up. It’s not that you weren’t eager to go clubbing. You actually liked to partake in such excursions and just forget about the daily stress for an evening full of fun and loud music. And this time, it seemed to be helpful to suppress certain matters of the heart as well…

   Your gaze wandered to the lounge area where you found a certain deer demon sitting on a couch – the seats around him unoccupied because no one dared to sit close to him – and you could feel your heart sink. You were so confident when you convinced him to join your excursion and yet you didn’t dare to spare him a single glance ever since you entered this establishment. You had convinced him to join in a moment of boldness, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity to bridge the gap between you. But instead you feared that you complicated things even further.

   Alastor was an enigma and that was part of the allure that drew you in. His charm, his charisma, and the old-world chivalry he brought to every interaction caused you to melt every time he was near. He made your heart race with a single glance, his touch – so commanding yet delicate – set your skin on fire, sending thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was a force of nature, fierce and unpredictable, with a soft spot only those he chose were privileged to see. And you were one of those people. Yet, you weren’t even sure if you meant anything to him because he held you at a respectable distance, initiating a game of push and pull between you that left you reeling.

   Was it a mistake to bring him here? A part of you thought it was because you knew he never was one for Hell’s modern nightlife and seeing him sit there, a predator among prey with a strained grin plastered on his face and holding onto a drink in his hands, only highlighted the chasm between you two. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you made things worse by dragging him into an environment where he seemed completely out of place, and where your feelings for him felt more unrequited than ever.

   "Dizzy head?" A female voice disrupted your train of thoughts, and you raised your head to meet the kind face of a beautiful woman leaning against the bar counter. She held a long drink with a tiny paper umbrella in her hand, her lips curled into a soft smile. Her skin had a pale pinkish hue, almost ghostly under the club's dim yet colorful lights, while two horns peeked out from her thick raven hair.

   "A little," you responded, pushing your daunting thoughts away, and took a sip from your soda. "But nothing to worry about. A few minutes of abstinence will do enough," you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the haze.

   The woman laughed along and glanced thoughtfully at the drink in her hands. “I’ll probably do the same after this one.” She shrugged and then turned her gaze back to you. “I’m Selena,” she introduced herself with a bright smile.

   “Y/N!” you returned much more joyfully than you felt.

   “So, your first time here? I’m a regular guest here so I know all of the common faces.”

   You took another sip from your soda. Maybe getting to know someone new would help you feel better. “I actually came here with a group of people. Friends and co-workers, you could say. Just a simple night out to get some distraction from the stress of maintaining the hotel,” you explained with a slight smile on your lips as your gaze quickly wandered around the club. You noticed some of your companions scattered across the establishment.

   Selena tilted her head curiously, clearly intrigued. “The hotel? So, you’re working at that ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” she asked, and soon your casual small talk turned into an extensive conversation. You told her about your job and Charlie’s unusual belief in redemption that barely received any recognition, and Selena listened intently, her curiosity keeping the conversation alive with thoughtful questions. As you talked, a sense of relief washed over you. Slowly, you learned more about Selena, and before long, thoughts of Alastor faded from your mind entirely.

   As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn back into the rhythm of shots and cocktails, and soon enough, Selena dragged you back to the pulsing dance floor. The flashing lights and thumping bass faded into the background as you moved in sync, the world reduced to just the two of you dancing and laughing like old friends. The chemistry between you was palpable. Selena mirrored your enthusiasm and joy with such ease that it felt like you had known each other for years. With every dance move and shared laughter, the bond between you deepened and you were certain that if the night continued on this smoothly and you both remembered each other the next morning, you had found a new friend. 

   The music – a popular pop song from the early 2000’s – filled the air, infusing the atmosphere with nostalgia and energy, and a sense of euphoria washed over you. You danced, drinks raised into the air while you held each other on the shoulders. Each move felt like a release, a moment of being liberated from all worries and constraints as the adrenaline rushed through your veins.

   You exchanged meaningful glances with Selena, unable to ignore the magnetic pull you felt toward her. Was it merely the alcohol heightening your perceptions, or was it genuinely her captivating presence – her allure, infectious personality, and sharp wit – that drew you in? You didn’t know but your mutual attraction pulled you closer until you eventually slipped away, stumbling into a quiet hallway at the back of the club, away from the pounding music and the press of bodies. The alcohol clouded your vision, lowered your senses and your boundaries. And so, you found yourself caught in a passionate embrace with Selena. Your fingers played with her hair as you pressed yourself against her, using the proximity with that alluring woman to your own benefit to forget about the tight squeeze around your heart and all the inner turmoil you felt whenever you thought about him.

   Meanwhile, Alastor still sat in his secluded spot, grateful that his presence was nervously avoided by the other guests. He appreciated not having to endure forced proximity with people – at least most of the time. One time during the evening, Charlie – ever the caring person – had seated herself next to him, expressing her worry about his obviously strained mood and claiming to feel guilty for not allowing him to stay at the hotel. How funny that the princess truly believed she was the reason he joined their little night out; as if she had any authority over him... To his surprise, Alastor had easily managed to brush her off by affirming he was alright all over again. A blatant lie, but preferable over enduring more of her neverending rambling. Of course, she reassured him several times that returning to the hotel would be okay, before she eventually left him alone. And Alastor would have already left hours ago if it wasn’t his primary concern to ensure your safety.

   He felt a migraine coming on, an unpleasant throbbing in his temple caused by the stress this establishment was inflicting upon him. Rising from his seat, he decided to retreat from the main area to seek some respite from the oppressive atmosphere, instructing his shadow to remain vigilant. With his cane tapping against the floor with every step, he walked past the lounge area and the dancefloor, the crowd instinctively parting to make way for him like Moses parting the Red Sea. Thanks to his observant shadow, he already knew that the back of the club led to an outside area that offered a welcome relief from the sensory overload.

   As he walked through the dimly lit hallway, the music became quieter, no longer assaulting his sensitive hearing, and instead, faint giggles reached his ears. He hesitated before rounding the corner and stopped dead in the tracks. There, in front of him, were you, pressed against a wall and your lips locked with another woman in a heated kiss. The scene was intimate, passionate, and entirely unexpected. Your body was entwined with her’s, your hands roaming through her hair while the woman held you in her embrace.

   For a moment, Alastor simply watched, unable to avert his gaze. This revelation caught him completely off-guard and his heart twisted painfully in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy and confusion warring inside him. He had known that you were fond of men but this revelation left him reeling. But no matter with whom you were with, seeing you in such an intimate manner with another person was a blow he hadn’t anticipated and that sent a surge of anger through his body. He clenched his fists, torn between storming away and interrupting you, the discomfort palpable in his features while he fought to regain his composure.

   Sensing eyes on you, you broke the kiss and looked up. You startled immediately as your eyes fell on the red deer demon.

   "Alastor!" you exclaimed in shock, instinctively pushing Selena away. She turned her head, her eyes widening immediately, her face paling in shock and fear as she recognized the figure standing before you both. "You– you’re the Radio Demon!" she stammered, her voice shaky.

   You, still breathless from the kiss, clenched your jaws together, feeling just as uncomfortable as Alastor. His grin looked strained for a second but then he returned to his cold, unreadable expression, and your heart sank in your chest.

   “Alastor… this isn’t what it looks like…” you muttered a cheap excuse while you felt the heat rising to your face, turning your already alcohol-induced cheeks to a burning red. Your lips curled into a nervous grin, driven by the rush of embarrassment coursing through your veins, mingled with a heavy, unidentifiable tangle of emotions. Out of all your companions, why did it have to be him who caught you in the middle of the act?

   Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile now sardonic while his gaze wandered back and forth between you and Selena. His voice carried a heavy static as he responded, “Oh, I think it is exactly what it looks like, my dear.”

   You took in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean to–,” you tried to explain but Alastor cut you off with a dismissive wave of his clawed hand.

   “Nonsense, my dear,” he laughed his discomfort off, pushing his jealousy aside, though the enhanced static on his voice betrayed his forced facade. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re free to do whatever you want. I am the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He wiggled his fingers in a suggestive gesture that implied everything he wanted to say without having to utter a single word.

   You giggled nervously, your heartbeat slowly calming, and glanced at Selena who appeared visibly intimidated by Alastor’s presence, her posture tense and her joyful expression replaced by a mortified grimace, which only made you feel more uneasy.

   “I– I should go,” she eventually said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the hallway and attempted to walk off.

   “No, wait!” you tried to stop her, not wanting to be left alone with Alastor, but Selena just forced herself to tighten her lips into a reassuring smile.

   “Don’t worry, I’ll find you later,” she retorted, interpreting your reaction as a worry to not see her again instead of the sheer plea to not be left alone. With that, she walked off, returning to the main part of the club and leaving you alone with Alastor.

   You felt his lingering gaze burning into your side, the faint glow of his crimson eyes in the dim light of the hallway making him appear more dangerous than he was. Well, assuming that Alastor wasn’t dangerous would be utterly naive – he was literally an overlord and one of the most dangerous ones at that. However, he would never harm you, so in that sense, he was harmless.

   “Enjoying yourself, I see,” Alastor eventually commented, his unreadable expression sharpened by a subtle flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

   You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him and that comment only exacerbated your unease. Why did he have to be someone who found pleasure in keeping other people on edge? Could he at least not wallow in your discomfort now? It wasn’t as if you weren’t already suffering enough.

   You sighed and bit your lip, swallowing the clod in your throat before you pulled yourself together to say something. “We were just… oh fuck me…” you mumbled those last words quietly to yourself, “Look, she’s a friend and we got a little too comfortable after drinking so much booze.” While you tried to explain the situation, you asked yourself why you even bothered. He couldn’t care less. You weren’t dating and probably not even friends. Damn, you didn’t even know what you were because everything was just too complicated between the both of you. There were pushes and pulls and every time you felt some tension crackling between you it dissipated again, leaving you clueless and completely confused by Alastor’s unpredictable behavior, his intermittent interest in you, and those random moments that allowed you a fleeting glimpse behind his facade. It was infuriating the least and most of all profoundly frustrating. If it wasn’t for him and your damned feelings for that man, you probably wouldn't even have found yourself in this predicament.

   “Why are you even here?” you asked and eventually dared to look at him. 

   “I was seeking some quiet,” he replied, his voice softer now, the edge gone.

   “And then you stumbled upon us and decided to watch?”

   He let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, come on. I did not watch,” he dismissed your question with a nonchalant throw of his hand, rolling his eyes as if you just asked him the stupidest thing. “But your little rendezvous was attracting quite the attention, dear.”

   You gritted your teeth and decided to push his borders a little. If he could make the situation awkward for you then you could certainly return the favor. Besides, you were still drunk and the alcohol lowered your inhibitions enough to go completely bold in front of him.

   Narrowing your eyes you crossed your arms in front of your chest and relaxed back against the same wall you were just pressed against by Selena mere minutes ago. “Quite the attention or your attention, Alastor?” you asked, pretending to be more confident than you actually were.

   Alastor’s grin grew more strained immediately and you could swear that one of his eyes twitched for a quick second before he regained his composure yet another time. Why was he so tense? Normally, Alastor would’ve just raised an eyebrow and walked past you without further interest. But instead he froze on spot, obviously unable to avert his gaze until you felt his eyes on you.

   He didn’t respond, so your expression grew more smug as you decided to push him just a little bit further. Maybe you could use this situation to your advantage and finally get some answers… “Could it be that it bothered you to catch me with someone else?”

   “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear,” he dismissed your question with another throw of his hand, rolling his eyes yet again. “I was merely caught off-guard by seeing you engaging in such frivolities with another woman. I didn’t know you swung both ways.” He tilted his head and chuckled, the static filter on his voice distorting the sound almost unnervingly.

   “Well, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you retorted, your voice coming out sharper than expected.

   One of Alastor’s ears twitched at your aggravated tone. “Is that so?” he asked.

   “It is.” You deadpanned.

   A moment of silence lingered between the two of you until Alastor broke it, “Well, the world is full of surprises, isn’t it? And you, my dear, seem to be full of surprises too.”

   “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

   “How about both?” He tilted his head once more, casually positioning his cane in front of him and leaning on it the way he usually did when he found himself intrigued by something. The tension that had gripped him so tightly vanished as if it had never been there at all. And there it was: the so-called push and pull that left you reeling for months. 

   You took a deep breath, growing annoyed by this conversation. “If you don’t care then why are you still here?”

   “Curiosity, dear,” he responded casually.

   “Curiosity?” You arched an eyebrow, not quite buying his answer.

   “Indeed,” he affirmed.

   “Curiosity killed the cat,” you deadpanned.

   “And satisfaction brought it back,” he retorted, clearly enjoying the banter.

   You groaned. Why did he have to do this to you…? “Well, if you’re satisfied now… you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” You pushed yourself off the wall, ready to return to the dance floor – but not without heading towards the bar beforehand and ordering the strongest booze you could get here.

   You already set off, as Alastor’s voice called after you, “Running away, are we?”

   You stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were in public and therefore couldn’t just hit his head against a brick. Or…? Well, actually you could. You were in Hell, anyway. But Alastor was much stronger than you, and if you were to attack him, it meant that you couldn't be certain he would no longer be harmless to you. “I am not running away. I just don't see any reason to stay here and be interrogated by you any longer.”

   “Interrogated? My dear, I'm simply making conversation.”

   “This ain’t a simple conversation if you’re prying into my personal life.” With that you straightened your back and headed back to the main room of the club, leaving Alastor alone in the hallway, completely unaware of the hurt expression on his face.

Part 2 will be out at the end of the month. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am i the asshole for not wanting to make my oc bi/pan?

So i (23 FtM) joined an oc rp discord server, the setting is that everyone's ocs got isekai'd into a mystery escape room dimension and have to work with strangers to escape, because of this everyone is encouraged to use an oc that would be out of their element in this setting to see how they would react. My oc is Yuu, he is a gay man who i established to be an extremely introverted and brutally honest person and already have a boyfriend.

Let's call the other person Laura (22F), her oc is Jen who, in Laura's own words, is her self-insert. We rp'd together a few times on this server, our characters solving lock rooms together with Jen scolding Yuu for being rude or not understand social etiquette sometimes. While i didn't think much of it since i also rp with others the same way, Laura started shipping our ocs together since she interpreted that our ocs were getting closer and falling in love. At first, it was just mild flirting in our rp so i didn't say anything and just continue without responding to the flirts, but Laura got more explicit and even draw ship art of Yuu and Jen. Things gotten too uncomfortable for me to ignore so i asked Laura in ooc chat to stop and explained that my oc is gay and already have a lover etc.

Things should have stopped there but instead Laura told me to change Yuu's lore or make a bi/pan AU version of him, saying that i can just count this as not canon and rejecting Jen like that is too cruel. Of course i refused and stood my ground but a mod, who i think is Laura's friend, came in and said something about how by refusing to change Yuu's sexuality i would be a misogynist bi/panphobic fujoshi fetishizing mlm relationship (it was a whole paragraph that too long to be included fully.) We agrued back and forth about this and how i should have rejected Laura before she got too attached to me oc, things ended when i said fuck it and left the server while also blocking Laura and that mod.

I later told by my friend who was also in that server that Laura had a huge breakdown and even cried in vc which made me felt really bad and wonder if i should have handled this better and told her to stop from the start. I also heard that the mod tried to comfort Laura by basically telling her to steal my oc but thats a different story.

So, am i the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer horror, part 1

We all like a good horror story, right? You know what's even better? A queer horror story!

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean “guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending”, but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/ace spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don’t always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of “gay best friend” or a blink and you’ll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle*

Rose, like her parents, believes strongly that homosexuality is a sin, and holds great pride that her home town hosts Camp Damascus, a successful conversion camp for young teens. But Rose is also experiencing strange and terrifying things: memories of a beautiful girl, a demonic figure that shows up if her thoughts stray, flies crawling out her mouth. Something has happened in Rose's past that her parents won't speak of and that she herself can't remember, and Camp Damascus is at the center of it all. Sapphic, autistic main character, as well as a really cool take on demonic lore that is both inspired by and a subversion of christianity.

House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland*

Young adult. Something happened to Iris Hollow and her two older sisters when they were little; after having gone missing, they were all returned with no memory of what happened and identical scars on their throats. Years have passed since then, and though seen as strange the girls still lead mostly normal lives - that is, until the oldest, Grey, goes missing, leaving strange clues in her path. As Iris searches for her, a strange man with horns starts stalking her and memories start to rise to the forefront in her mind. To save Grey, Iris will have to find out the truth of what happened all those years ago. Features wonderfully morally grey characters. Bisexual lead, but little to no romance.

Winter Tide (The Innsmouth Legacy) by Ruthanna Emrys*

Aphra and her brother are the only survivors after the government raided their home, Innsmouth. Their only living family are the amphibian people of the deep, whom they will one day join, but until then they are bound to land where they struggle to build new lives for themselves after the great loss of their home and loved ones. Then rumors start to spread of a russian agent seeking dangerous and ancient magic, forcing Aphra to involve herself as they try to stop it. Does contain horror elements but is generally a much more optimistic look on cosmic horror than most lovecraftian stories, told from the perspective of one of his monsters. Lots of focus on found family and rebuilding of community. Asexual main character (however I don’t think that becomes in-text confirmed until the sequel) and multiple queer characters in the supporting cast.

Rules for Vanishing by Kate Alice Marshall

Young adult. One year ago, Sara's sister went missing. Since then, Sara has drifted away from her friends, but when she receives a mysterious text inviting her to "play the game" - the same game that supposedly stole her sister away - Sara and her estranged friends all come back together to find her. Together they set off on a path that legend says appears only once a year, leading them toward the ghost Lucy Gallows and, hopefully, Sara's sister. Bisexual main character, told in a faux documentary style.

Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon

A young pregnant woman flees a cult that left her body strange and changing in terrifying ways. Hiding from both a world wanting to oppress her and the cult seeking to force her back, she does her best to raise her children while trying to find out the truth of the cult and being pursued by a hunter in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Bleak and scary, Sorrowland is a book that will creep under your skin with horrors both fantastical and very, very real.

Otherside Picnic (Otherside Picninc lightnovel series) by Iori Miyazawa

Sapphic light novel with a surreal and episodic horror vibe. Following the directions of an urban legend, university student Sorawo finds her way to a reality populated by horrifying creatures from ghost stories and modern urban legends (of which I’m sure you’ll recognize many). Here she teams up with fellow explorer Toriko, both to find out more about this strange world and to help Toriko find a missing loved one. Also available as a manga and (one season of) an anime. Sapphic.

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Amrfield

Miri thought she lost her wife Leah when her deep-sea mission ended in a catastrophe. But Leah was miraculously returned to her - or so it seems. Because something happened down there, deep in the ocean, and whatever it was, Leah has brought it back with her. Surreal and strange, Our Wives Under the Sea will not answer all your questions, but it will give you a unique experience.

What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher

Novella. Alex Easton, retired soldier, travels to visit their childhood friends, siblings Madeline and Roderick Usher, after finding out that Madeline is dying. In the siblings’ rural, ancestral home, Madeline walks in her sleep and looks to be fading away, while around it wildlife seems to be possessed by a strange force. With the help of a mycologist and an American doctor, Alex attempts to save Madeline and reveal the truth of her illness. Nonbinary main character.

Alien: Echo by Mira Grant

Young adult. Twin sisters Olivia and Viola’s parents are both xenobiologists, bringing them all over the galaxy. Most recently they’ve settled on a new colony world to study its wildlife, but it proves more dangerous than they could’ve ever imagined. Under attack from alien monsters, the sisters must keep each other alive while also coming to terms with a dark family secret. Sapphic horror. Part of the Alien franchise but stands well on its own.

Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant*

A research vessel heads towards the Mariana Trench in search of answers of what happened to a ship which mysteriously lost all its crew some time earlier. In the deep dark, something intelligent and hungry awaits them. Very much mermaids of the horror variety. Sequel to a novella, can be read as a standalone. Also contains a sapphic romance, however that is a pretty small part of the plot as a whole.

Alice Isn't Dead by Joseph Fink

Based on the podcast by the same name. Keisha Taylor thought she had lost her wife. She even held a funeral and attempted to move on with her life. But then Alice started to appear, all over America, in the background of every single major tragedy in the country. To find her missing wife, Keisha gets a job as a trucker and sets out on a roadtrip, not knowing what horrors awaits her.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power

Young adult. Over a year ago, the Raxter School for Girls was hit by the Tox, a strange disease that killed off many and left the survivors’ bodies slowly changing in terrifying ways. The island the school is on has been in quarantine since then, and the girls dare not leave the school grounds lest they become victims of wild animals changed by the Tox. But as they wait for the promised cure, one of the girls goes missing, and her friends are willing to do anything to find her. Unsettling, spooky, and sapphic, this is a unique read featuring body horror and messy, dangerous girls.

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero

Once, Andy, Kerri, Nate, Peter and their faithful dog were known as the Blyton Summer Detective Club, until they hit their fateful final case in 1977. Now, the year is 1990, and the group hasn't gathered in years. Tomboy Andy is wanted in at least two states; Kerri, former kid genius, is tending bar; and horror nerd Nate is in a mental institution in Arkham. At least he still has the company of jock-turned-movie star Peter - except Peter has been dead for years. Now they must all come together to find out the truth of what happened all those years ago. Lovecraftian horror with a sometimes absurdist vibe and adult scooby do inspiration. Sapphic romance.

Contagion by Erin Bowman*

Young adult. After receiving an SOS, a small crew is sent on a standard search-and-rescue mission. But what they find are not survivors awaiting help, but an abandoned site, full of dead bodies and crawling with something… monstrous. No romance, but features one sapphic co-lead and one who can easily be read as demisexual (however this doesn’t show up until book two, which has more romance).

Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand*

Young adult. The isolated island of Sawkill Rock has secrets. It hosts the legend of a local monster, and the very stark reality of decades of girls going missing, never to be found again. Now, three girls stand at the center of the horrific mystery - if only they can come together, perhaps they can save future generations of girls from a monster that may very well be real. Asexual and sapphic main characters, including a sapphic romance.

Salvation Day by Kali Wallace

A decade ago, the massive ship House of Wisdom was abandoned in orbit after its entire crew was killed in an outbreak in a matter of hours. Now, Zahra and her family of outcasts hope to claim the ship as their own by kidnapping the sole survivor to gain access. But the danger of the House of Wisdom is far from gone. Horror, no major romance but one of the main characters is gay.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling*

Possibly one of the most unstintingly claustrophobic books I’ve ever read, and definitely the most claustrophobic. Gyre, a caver on an alien planet, ventures into the dark and dangerous underground, guided only by a woman who has no compunctions on using and manipulating Gyre as she sees fit to obtain her secretive goals down in the caves. Sapphic in the most messy of ways.

Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb series) by Tamsyn Muir*

Gideon, raised as a swordswoman by unfriendly nuns, would rather run away and make her own life, but her services are needed. The Reverend Daughter, Gideon’s childhood nemesis, has been invited to a trial to win a place as an immortal by the Emperor’s side, and she’s in need of a bodyguard. Listen, if you’re on tumblr I probably don’t need to explain this book to you. Trust me when I say it’s exactly as good as people claim. Humorous and spooky but also absolutely gut wrenching and clever with a lot of political commentary. There are also, indeed, lesbian necromancers in space.

Family Business by Jonathan Sims

By the author behind the Magnus Archives. When Diya's childhood best friend and roommate unexpectedly passes away, Diya falls apart and, among other things, loses her job. When she's offered a position at Slough & Sons to clean up after the deceased, she sees no other recourse but to accept. Her new job is grisly but important, and Diya starts to get back on her feet - until strange visions of a terrifying man and the dead's last moments start to haunt her. Slough & Sons are hiding something, and it's up to Diya to find out the truth. No romance, bisexual main character and trans woman side character.

Sodom Road Exit by Amber Dawn

Starla didn't want to return to her childhood home of Crystal Beach, Canada, but growing debt has forced her to move back in with her mother, despite the trauma hidden in her old home. But Starla is haunted by more than trauma; she is, in fact, literally haunted, by a ghost that may understand her, but may also consume her. Not overly scary, but handles dark subjects such as childhood sexual assault. Lesbian main character and romance.

House of Hunger by Alexis Henderson*

In a world where the rich drink blood to preserve their health, Marion applies to a position as bloodmaid in a notorious noble house far from home. Suddenly showered with luxuries and debauchery, Marion soon gains the interest and favor of Lisavet, countess of the house. A fresh take on the idea of vampires and deliciously dark sapphic romance inspired by the horrific real-life Elisabet Báthory.

A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson

Dracula inspired novella, following Constanta, who’s turned from a medieval peasant to an undead bride. As time passes the relationship between Dracula and Constanta grows all the more strained and potentially dangerous. Teaming up with his two other consorts, she seeks to unravel her husband’s secrets. Sapphic and polyamorous.

Dread Nation (Dread Nation duology) by Justina Ireland

Young adult, alternate history. In this world, the war between the American states is interrupted when the dead start walking the earth and hunting the living. Jane McKeene has been trained at Miss Preston’s School of Combat to become an attendant, skilled in combat as well as etiquette to protect the wealthy. But Jane wants a different life, and in her search for it stumbles headfirst into a conspiracy. Bisexual main character, aroace side character (who becomes a POV character in the sequel).

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

In a future where those with high testosterone are afflicted by a zombie-like disease, bloodthirsty men have become the enemy. Trans women Beth and Fran and trans man Robbie do their best to survive in this brutal world, where TERF movements seek to exterminate them and monstrous men hunt in the wilds. VERY gruesome and bleak, but also very timely in the present political climate.

Leech by Hiron Ennes*

Unbeknownst to humanity, a sentient hive mind has taken over the entire medical profession to ensure the health of their host species. One of their doctors is sent off to an isolated location where they’re cut off from the rest of the hive mind, only to realize they’re faced with a rivaling parasitic entity. Leech hands you only just enough information to get by, and whether its historical fantasy, an alternate timeline, or futuristic post apocalypse is hard to determine. It’s spooky and a bit weird and wildly creative, and does some neat things with gender.

The Outside by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existential crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired sci-fi where reality is warped and artificial gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

The Gilded Abyss by Rebecca Thorne

Nix Marr is a soldier and damned good at it, but that doesn’t prepare her for her next mission: bodyguard for Subarch Kessandra, beloved royal and Nix’s bitter ex. The two venture toward the underwater city of Fall to seek the cause of a bloody murder spree and a possible deadly contagion. But Kessandra has enemies, the answers she seeks marking her as a possible threat for the nation’s rulers. On their way in an isolated and enclosed underwater ship toward Fall, the contagion catches up, and Nix will have to put her hurt feelings aside if the two are to arrive alive. Sci-fi with flavors of horror and the supernatural and a sapphic romance.

[alwaysakin]

The Vampire Diaries Universe Fic Recs

Once again putting my unhealthy amount of fanfic knowledge to good use. Here's my list (non-exhaustive) of the best vampire diaries & originals fanfics. Includes Klaroline, Bamon, Kolvina, and more.

Bamon Fics

Before I Take My Flesh Away by Orig1n - the fic where Bonnie and Damon are comically bonded, and she hops around in his timeline pre (and during) the series. Tragically unfinished, but completely incredible! Kudos for developing Stefan and Damon as brothers and making me not hate Lily Salvatore. Also love the Arthurian lore.

if you love me (don't let go) by sarcastic_fina - this is a heartbreaking deconstruction of Bonnie and her victim mentality, and shows the strength of not only her romantic relationship with Damon, but her friendships with Caroline, Matt, and Tyler. So sad, but so good!

Bloodstone by cactusfinch - Bonnie time travels to 1864 (with all the problems entailed). Her relationship with Damon is done well here, and her friendship (sort of!) with Katherine is fun as hell.

rest for the wicked (hope for the weary) by castelia - Damon and Bonnie go on a road trip together after the prison word. I am a sucker for mutual pining, and this fic does it so well!

Fifty-Five Years by turningofflights - written from Elena's perspective, after she reads Bonnie's diary entries and learns how Bonnie and Damon fell in love. A bittersweet, believable love story for Bonnie and Damon.

Other Bonnie Bennett Ship Fics

The Edge of Night by Szajnie - a crossover between season 3 of the Originals and season 7 of the Vampire Diaries, where Bonnie goes to New Orleans. She's absolutely in her element here as the most powerful New Orleans witch, takes the supernatural world by storm, and everyone has a happier ending because of it (including her!). Absolutely love her friendships with Davina, Vincent, and Freya, and shout-out for being the only fic to make me care about Cami! Truly, this is great. The NOLA gang is the family Bonnie deserves, and the Bonnie/Klaus is so believable.

Kai Parket Screwed Us (Until Bonnie Bennett Screwed Him) by hysteriaww - exactly what it sounds like. Bonnie shows up to help Josie and Lizzie deal with the prison world and her and Kai's insane relationship weirds everyone out. Deals with the Gemini Coven in a really interesting way. Hilarious, and with mild Damon and Alaric bashing. BonKai.

Season One, Epsidoes One-Three by BorgiaBabe - a rewrite of the first three episodes of TVD with Bonnie as a proper main character. Her love interest is a softer Kai, and it's great! Bonnie really deserves better.

the night light hits off, turning kisses to bites by donutworry - an insane, dark, twisted Bonnie and Kai romance, where they're the only ones in the prison world from the start. I absolutely love the Gemini Coven lore in this fic.

Klaroline Fics

Make them bow by for_darkness_shows_the_stars - Klaus appears in season 1 of the vampire diaries. it's Klaroline, but still super gen, and all the characters get their own compelling arcs in it. Especially love the way Elena and Stefan are written.

One of A Kind, Two of a Kind, or the Three Musketeers by Phandancee74 - Caroline is an ancient nymph who was erased from memory by Malivore. She still helps the Mystic Falls gang out (and her relationship with Bonnie is great)! The Klaus/Caroline is angsty and lovely.

Calling on a Friend by Phandancee74 - 5 year old Josie gets Klaus's number. Shenanigans ensue. Short and cute as hell.

Sanctuary in their Hearts by thatsanotherlovestory - Caroline leaves before the season 8 wedding, and heads to New Orleans with Klaus. A fun story, but still so sad Bonnie didn't get her happy ending in it. The twins are so cute in this.

Let's do the Time Loop again! by kcatdino - on the night of the sacrifice, both Klaus and Caroline get stuck in a time loop. It's so funny to watch them get more and more deranged.

sweet present of the present by VintageLilac - it's Caroline, not Rebekah, who raises Hope while New Orleans is at war. I absolutely love Katherine in this fic, and though Hayley gets the short end of the stick it's written quite well.

The Wolf by Yokan - a witch version of Caroline is the one pregnant with Klaus's baby in the originals. And while season 1 doesn't change a lot because of it, the later one's definitely do! I love the Klaus and Caroline relationship, and Caroline & Elijah friendship.

Elena Gilbert-Centric Fic

The stars were brightly shining by adlyb - a fic where Elena is pregnant with Klaus's baby. It's so hard to describe! A little twisted, a little sweet, and a thorough depiction of Elena's mental state.

The Forgotten by MissNMikaelson - Elena time travels and gets dropped in the middle of Klaus and Kol's war in New Orleans, circa 1914. The flashback scenes in the fic are great! Eventual Kol/Elena.

blame it on the stardust by allwritenow - the fic that looks into if Elena's doppelganger nature affected her more. And a truly beautiful Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena friendship.

Off by a Single Degree by Tarroko - when Elena's phone dies, Damon walks her home and never compels away her memories, and her parents never die. This softer, sweeter Elena is so believable, and I love the way canon immediately shifts. Amazing development of her parents, Anna, and Enzo. Delena.

Katherine Pierce Centric Fic

afflictions eclipsed by glory by passionesque - in 1864, right after the fire in Mystic Falls, Elijah finds Katherine. They team up together against Klaus. This deals with Katherine's trauma and cunning so well! A slow build to Elijah/Katherine, involving him acknowledging his faults.

General Mystic Falls Gang Fics

in another life (i would let you go) by sarcastic_fina - Elena wakes up in a world where she isn't the doppelganger and no one knows her. An interesting deconstruction of the affects she's had on her friends.. Manages to be both Elena-bashing and sympathetic at the same time. Minor Steroline and Bamon.

Originals Family Feels

It All Comes Crumbling Down by AlwaysAkin - can I do a self-rec? I'm doing a self-rec. Hope is born a century earlier, and grows up in New Orleans with the Mikaelsons. I'm particularly proud of my Hope-Marcel bond and young!Hope voice in this one.

A Twist Through Time by fandom_lover_101 - Hope is sent back in time to the Vampire Diaries season 3. She messes everything up. Absolutely love the slow Hope & Klaus relationship built here, and her friendship with Elena is cute too. Minor Klaroline, Delena, and Handon.

Always & Tomorrow by Viretta - another tragically unfinished fic. Set after Hope jumps into Malivore in Legacies, it involves the dead Mikaelsons being resurrected, and the kids from the Salvatore School travelling to New Orleans (with a newly activated tribrid Hope). This is a Mikaelson family story in the bloodiest, best way. Has Handon and Klaroline in addition to the canon originals couples.

if no one in the entire world cared about you (did you really exist at all?) by nevermore_evermore - Elijah is erased from the minds of everyone he loves. Kol is (eventually) there to help him through it. An interesting take on Elijah's place in the family.

A Million Mistakes by mon-amour-eternel - a fic where Caroline is also an original, and her and Klaus are Marcel's parents. Sadly unfinished, especially considering the rarity of Marcel-centric fic!

But Stand Brave, Life-Liver by crownjrose - A Hayley-centric fic! Her foster parents come to New Orleans and see the way her life turned out. Interesting closure for Hayley, and a sweet Klaus/Hayley relationship.

Kolvina Fic

(finally) you and me are the lucky ones by yorkes - a long one-shot where Kol and Davina are soulmates. It's cute as hell! And Kol and Davina really grow into each other in this one.

The Vixen and the Fox by BlueBooThalassophile - be warned, this read is long as hell. But it's also great. Davina time travels to the Vampire Diaries season 4, gets involved in the fight against Silas, and everything goes sideways immediately. Love Davina's friendship with Hayley and bond with Marcel in this one. Every character in both shows appears in this one.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wrap My Teeth Around the World

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as tentacle sex, monster fucking, cosmic horror element, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As you work on your latest novel, the line between reality and horror are skewed.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: I hope you all enjoy this. Hoping to have another scary story on the way.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me❤️

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The moonlight gleams like moisture on the unfurling tentacles. Horror shines in her eyes as she watches the beast emerge from his mortal shell. The man is not what he seems. He is creature, he is beast. His svelte silhouette contorts and convulses. 

He real form bursts into the night. An otherwordly coil of limbs and scales and things she cannot name or make sense of. The cosmic being lets out a deep rumbling declaration, a voice she doesn’t hear but rather thrums into her from the earth. 

‘It is I. The doom. The end. The consumer of all.’ 

You take a breath as your fingers hover over the keyboard. You tend to hold it in when you’re focused. You’re a bit woozy from not only the pressure in your chest but the scene you’ve painted into words. Slowly, it fades away from your imagination and you’re alone in that room. 

Your apartment is far from the vast seascape of your story. There is so vibrant horizon, no storming waters, nothing but a window peering out into the grey city. The walls are no less dull. The plaster is a lifeless white, the floors a worn hardwood with scratches and scuffs, and the furniture is a motley collection of what does the job. 

You sigh and rub your eyes. Your dead line is more horrific than the fictional beasts. You’re so close yet it feels so far away. You can do this. You can get something done. 

You get up and take your empty mug to the kitchen. You rinse away the dregs of tea leaves from your last refill. You flip the switch on the kettle and peruse the sampler kit your grandmother sent you for a new flavour. Maple Black. Mm. It’ll do. 

That’s all that life is. What will do. But writing, that’s a doorway to what you wish could. It’s a pathway to possibility. A portal to potential. In your mind, on paper, you can be anything, and the world can be everything. 

Existence is futile. Brutal. There’s always that most basic truth of being. There is no control. There is no change. The world is exactly what you see. It’s four walls and roof; a stained mug and prepackaged tea. Reality is inescapable. It wraps its tendrils around you until you can’t breathe and all at once, as quickly as it bloomed, it’s gone and you’re dragged back into the ether. 

You might be spending too much time in the lore. Your eyes come back into focus as a shadow shifts against the wall. You flinch and blink. You look around, searching for the source. How strange. The window can’t possibly cast into the kitchen and the only light on is the stove light and the lamp at your desk. You must be seeing things. Sleep deprivation at its finest. 

You fill the mug with steaming water and return to your perch. The chair squeaks under your weight and the wheels barely roll as the plastic warps with use. You set your cup down and yawn. 

Finish the chapter, then you can nap. 

🦑

Your timer beeps, tearing you from a skull-pulsing slumber. You push the heels of your hands into your eyes and groan. Your intended three hours was maybe two at best. The anxiety of writing kept you tossing and turning as you found yourself weaving narrative in your mind as your body ached for rest. 

You silence your phone and sit up dizzily. The rectangle of light shining through the window ripples on the wall, as if sheer fabric were dragged across the glass. You turn, catching yourself on the arm of the couch as you narrow your eyes.  

It’s only the window. Streetlights blare through in a yellow glaze that makes your eyes hurt. You shake your head, rattling the stone behind your brow, and make yourself get up. 

Tea, a few biscuits, and then you begin. Your keyboard stays silent as you stare at the blinking cursor. You know what happens next but that’s not the problem. 

You rest your thumbs on the plastic and blink. Your eyes stick shut and your fingers tingle. Suddenly, a tight pressure cords around your digits, squeezing at your knuckles. Your fingertips slam into the keys and your eyes snap open. 

You look down at your hands and the inky black tendrils around them. You shriek and they disappear like black mist. You raise your hands shakily and pull up the sleeves of your shirt. Great. You know you need more sleep but you can’t afford it. If you don’t meet this dead line, you don’t meet rent. 

You wiggle your finger push your hands over your hair. This is real horror. The torture of keeping yourself alive. Scraping just to subsist. Not to thrive, just to be. 

You sniff and take a sip of tea. It burns your tongue. Shit. 

You look down at the keyboard and splay your fingers, holding your hands just above. You brush your palms over it and sigh. Get your shit together. 

The iron sky is still and unblemished. No cloud, no sun or moon, it is no sky at all but the vastness of nothing... 

You let yourself sink into the atmosphere of that other world. The one that very much mirrors your but with those distorted nuances. Those little terrors and tremors that make your blood flow cold. 

It trickles out of you. Letter by letter, word by word, paragraph by painful paragraph. Half a chapter down. 

You sit back and the monitor blurs to a white fuzz. You cover your eyes with your hands and slowly exhale. Your drop your arms and lean back, letting your eyelids close, just for a moment. A moment becomes more than that. The soft glow against your eyelids dims to a dark void. 

Like tentacles, the blackness curls around you. You drift down into the lull of your subconscious and wade into the waters of exhaustion. The tides are thick like mud and the current pulls you under until you’re drowning. 

You give a start at the noise of the error. Ding. Ding. Ding. 

You sit up and grunt. You touch the imprint of the keyboard against your cheek. Shit! 

Your doc is a mess. Thank god for the cloud and version history. Still, the time it’ll take you to sift through the gibberish is enough to put off your entire plan. Of course. You always fuck something up. 

You lean your face in your hand and scroll through the pages. Up and up and up. Your fingers flick back and forth as you drag the pages by. 

Wait no. No. Page 50; you wrote more than that. 49, 48, 47... 20... 19... they’re all just filled with clusters of nonsensical symbols. 

Page ten stops your scrolling. The font changes. Bolder, bigger, icons you’ve never seen before. Geometric spirals and clusters of dots and sticks. You frown and go up to the language bar. 

Language undetected. 

You scroll up and down. You go into the version history. You pick the autosave from an hour ago. The whole doc transforms. The symbols are spaced out deliberately. You don’t understand. You zoom out on the doc. It’s an image? 

You zoom out, further and further. You change the settings so that you can view two pages side by side and keep hitting the minus. When at last you can see all the first ten pages, the image is clear. 

It’s a man. His eyes are spirals and his square jaw is set menacingly. His necktie is like a snake, slithering down his chest. And his jacket is a series of tentacles woven around his arms and torso to mimic fabric. You shudder. What the hell is this? 

The screen goes black. Everything does. The streetlights, the other buildings, the sky. You sit the silky darkness, paralysed, confused. You must be dreaming. It’s a nightmare of your own making. 

You’re shaking. No, the room is shaking. The floors, the walls, you can feel it. The chair wobbles on its wheels and you put your toes to the ground to try to still it. Then you hear, no, you feel laughter rumbling through you. 

The rocky snicker is like an avalanche. It crashes down on you, crushing you so you’re crushed against the chair. You grip the armrests and blink but cannot see through the dense darkness. You can’t move as a dripping surrounds you. It isn’t wet but cold and dry. How... 

It starts at your toes. As if you’re being submerged in a thick substance. It creeps up your body, encases it, slithering, coiling, up to your knees and thighs, hips, torso, arms. All of your right up to your chin. Your head is forced up by the tight constriction around your neck. 

You’re lifted by the otherworldly force. You feel the shift, you hear the chair roll and crash. You are brought flat parallel to the floor. You wheeze in terror. 

“Fear what you long for, for you cannot comprehend the perils of desire unknown,” that voice with no noise flows through you. 

You cannot answer. Your arms are pulled straight, stretched out from your sides. Your legs snap open, ankles wide, and back arches as an icy sheath spreads over your skin. You feel your clothing dissolve beneath the grip of that unseen force. 

There’s a tickle up your cheek. Flicking and slimy. You shudder and search the darkness instinctively. Your heart hammers in your chest. You cannot discern what’s happening to you. 

As you’re enshrined in a coldness so raw it hurts, your insides boil to a flame. You moan and squirm as your veins flood with fire, coursing into your blazing core. You quiver as the battle of hot and cold drenches you in sweat. 

You let out a choked squeak as the pressure around your thighs tightens. The tickle between your legs strikes the heat in you to paramount. You rasp as your whine is muted by the thrall on your throat. The sensation along your cunt intensives, centering on your tender bud. 

The sucking pinpoints on your clit, drawing the weight in your core down on your cunt. Your toes curl within the shell of your entrapment and your eyes wet in confusion and overstimulation. 

“It is I.” The horse thunderous voice says. “The doom.” You feel something else along your ass, it creeps towards your cunt. You tense as it prods along your entrance. “The end.” The voice declares, “The consumer of all.” 

As your impaled, you whimper out. Your vision lights with a ghastly bluish glare. The tint illuminates a face you know. The one you imagined when you wrote, the same etched in those mysterious icons, yet it is distorted in some way you cannot place. 

His eyes are blue and green at once, stirring like currents in the ocean, and his features are sharp and exaggerated, yet enthralling. He is beautiful unlike anyone or anything you’ve ever witnessed. He is beauty wrought of malice and malcontent. He is the evil of desire. The consequence of longing. 

“Let yourself be consumed,” he purrs. 

Your eyes travel down his thick neck, a muscular chest limned in the blue light, veins black beneath his flesh. His torso is corded with muscle and his pelvis angular and defined. Yet below is something horrifying.  

A long tentacle unfurls from him where a man’s cock would be. You follow the length down to your own body. It is inside you, sliding in deeper and deeper, filling you to the point of intolerance. You watch helpless as he invades your body. 

From behind him, his shadow proves to be more. From his back extends dozens of tendrils, all of which coil around your body, holding you at the mercy of his intrusion.  

The tentacle delves deeper and deeper until you see your stomach distend beneath the winding shell around you. The blue light illuminates your body and his as he pulls you closer. You groan at the pressure inside you roils with that on your clit. The suction of another tender latched and unmoving. 

Your eyes roll back as you surrender the maelstrom of the creature’s thrall. You are bursting at the seams as your climax tears through you. You flesh tautens, your muscles split, and your bones snap. You spasm and cum, gushing out around the tentacle, gagging and choking on your mindless cries. 

Your wails follow you into the darkness. The blue light fades and the rumbling voice recedes. You sink down into the ether, back to whence you emerged. You melt into the sludge of life and death. You are not you. You are nothing. 

You are them and they are you. All is all, and one is nothing. The end, the doom, the consumed. 

[gffa]

I keep updating my feed to see if you have more opinions about the acolyte episode. I feel like this recent episode could’ve used a couple of your posts as reference when it comes to how the Jedi canonically go about acquiring [redacted for spoilers just in case you haven’t seen it yet]

Honestly, it felt like the show was trying really hard to portray the Jedi's methods as hinky, but couldn't actually do anything about it because of established worldbuilding. The Jedi of the High Republic have explicitly said they have to get permission from the parents. The Jedi of the prequels are explicitly shown as not adoption-hungry, the only time we see potential Jedi younglings, neither of them are taken from their parents, one says they'll be going later, one is just handed back to her mom, no indication Roo-Roo is going to be a Jedi at all. So, I think it's a weird situation, where The Acolyte is working so hard to create tension and mystery, but I'm not sure how it's going to shake out. I keep thinking of Torbin, like, yeah, what happened was a tragedy, but why was he specifically so torn up about it that he felt he had to die to obtain Mae's forgiveness? From what we saw in the episode, Mae set the fire, Mae ran off and the scaffolding fell and she was assumed dead, the Jedi never forced Osha to join them, Osha was the one who said she wanted to go. Therefore, unless the show is really, really poorly written, there has to be more to the mystery that we haven't yet unraveled. I feel like that's also influencing everything going on with the Jedi potential adoption, that this situation feels like we still don't have the full context. Why was Aniseya so worried about the Jedi finding out how the twins were conceived? Why do the Jedi care so adamantly, when we see in both the High Republic and the prequels that the Jedi live perfectly fine with other Force using traditions/cultures? Even if this coven was dark, that doesn't mean anything to the Jedi, they were perfectly well aware of the Nightsisters' existence and did nothing about it. Unless this show is extremely poorly written/ignoring top level canon, there has to be more to what was going on with the coven than we know about. Because what we see is the Jedi felt very strongly about these two girls for some reason, but they were clear that, while they had the right to test them, it still relied on the parents' permission. We see that they're pretty aware that Mae and Osha were failing on purpose--Mae can't fake her blood results, after all--and they don't push Mae, but they do gently push Osha because everything about her is straining towards wanting to be a Jedi. And EVEN THEN they just say she passed the test, it's Osha who talks to Aniseya and gets her to agree to letting her go, not the Jedi. The show's vibes kinda feel like there was pressure from the Jedi there, but the actual content of the episode is that the coven agreed to it specifically because they didn't want to attract attention, like they weren't part of the Republic, they specifically said they didn't have to agree, the others were willing to fight about it, but Aniseya was the one who said, no, let them take the test. Yeah, the Jedi are pushing for some reason, but it feels like it's not because that's how they operate in any other situations where we see them with Force-sensitive children, but because they know something specific about this situation. So, I'm fine with everything presented so far and, honestly, it was a lot more positive than I was expecting! Like, this show isn't just a big lore dump, it has a specific story to tell, you know? It's a situation that has its own unique circumstances and, sure, they were borrowing elements from other Jedi worldbuilding, but everything we saw in there was done with permission and they made a point to roll with what each girl seemed to want. Sol was so careful not to unduly pressure Osha, just ask her what she really wanted, gave her a little nudge because he could see what she wanted. They made sure it was her choice! That it was her mother's choice! How could I have asked for more than that?

[felassan]

Mass Effect: The Official Cocktail Book (Part 1 of 2)

[you can get the book here]

Drink, food, and other lore blurbs from this book. (The book also contains the associated real-world recipes and photography thereof. This post only contains the in-world lore segments).

this post is Part 1 of 2. Rest of post is under a cut due to length. [Link to Part 2]

If there's a particular drink/food you'd like to see the recipe and or picture for, lmk.

Introduction: Written in 2184 CE by “Ambree T’Sia”, identity classified It’s a big galaxy out there. Numerous planets and their inhabitants, all jockeying for power, prestige, and precedence. With these competing agendas often clashing, seldom mixing, sometimes you need a swig of something stiff to get you to the next Relay. Well, you’ve come to the right place. And me? Nine hundred years (give or take) and a variety of careers and aliases later, I hustle my way through the galaxy by the name of Ambree T’Sia these days. It’s the one fiction that allows me to keep the rest of the story honest – with varying degrees, depending on the situation. What I can share is this: a former asari huntress, I left the military bureaucracy to lead a small covert unit of ex-commandos focused on espionage and assassination outside of official channels. More effective and more fun that way. In my earlier years, I quickly learned that the best way to collect information is to buy a merc a drink or talk to the entertainers. The more I relied on bars and nightclubs to gather intel, the more connections I made with the key players. Not just the ones in the back office, but the ones slinging drinks with closed mouths and open ears. I started posing as a bartender myself and got quite good at it. Enjoyed it, even. I couldn’t exactly stay put for, well, reasons. But among those in the know, I’m still the go-to source for recommendations about the Milky Way’s best bars and nightclubs. After one too many “you should write a book!” jokes, I did. Guns and bribes in this economy? A cocktail guide seemed like an ideal little side hustle to help fund my more targeted activities. With this pen name, I’m free to share my favorite anecdotes about well-known figures across civilizations. I’ve also included a few safety tips for surviving the galaxy, setting your drink on fire, or respecting local drinking ages. (If you’re not legal, close this book up and come back when you are, babe.) I guess I just don’t believe in accidental injuries. For those feeling brave, go ahead and speculate about who I truly am. I’m not worried in the least. Because you won’t guess, and I’ll never tell… -- “Ambree T’Sia”

MIXERS Whether you’re slinging the hard stuff or milder “hair of the FENRIS Mech that bit you” drinks, mixers are the essential building blocks to any good bar. By all means, keep your favorite fruit juices, sodas, and whatnots on hand. But as someone who tends to move around a lot due to my… profession (I’m a master of the Asari Goodbye), I tend to lead a minimalist lifestyle. As such, I keep these mixer recipes on file to prepare quickly, as I need them. Let’s just say that they’ll keep your cocktails interesting.

Blue Thessia

Yes, mama is supposed to love all her babies the same, but this mixer is my favorite for its taste and versatility. (Hmm… sound like any cocktail authors you know?) Named after the asari homeworld, the Blue Thessia is the crown jewel of your bar essentials. You’ll predominantly taste sweet juniper and recognize that bold, asari-blue color. You could make your drinks without Blue Thessia, but that’s programming a Quantum Blue Box type AI and not giving it a sexy voice. What a wasted opportunity! Do be aware that this one contains trace amounts of element zero – nothing to concern yourself about, though, and it does keep things nice and sparkly.

Tuchanka Dry

This is the good stuff and it’s very hard to come by, which is why I make my own. Tuchanka Dry is similar to a fat-washed bourbon, which not only adds the flavor of the fat to the spirit, but also its texture and weight. If you’re making a Full Biotic Kick (page 43), well, this part’s the “kick”. Traditionally made with Thresher Maw fat (I did say it was hard to come by), this recipe started as a krogan rite-of-passage celebratory drink, when leftover fat from the kill was mixed together with alcohol. If you prefer dodging grocery carts over acid spit, you can make your own and get a surprisingly similar taste by substituting bacon.

Horse Choker

I’ve often found fighter pilots to be aggressive and competitive, so it delights me that this recipe I procured from a hot-tempered Alliance pilot named Jeff “Joker” Moreau Is instead indulgent and harmonious. The chocolate and espresso flavors combined with the spiced rum work oh so well together in a luxurious cooperation that especially enhances minty drinks. But don’t take my word for it – if you’re feeling a little spicy and hot-tempered, you might find this mixer helpful when you toss back a few shots of Joker’s Challenge (page 98) with your closest frenemies.

Simple Syrup

An essential building block for cocktails. Any well-stocked bar has a traditional simple syrup on hand. If you’re new to cocktail making and a bit apprehensive, start here – just add sugar to boiling water. See? Simple. As you’ll see, I prefer twice as much sugar to water. It’s on the richer side and your mileage may vary, as they say. Be aware that you don’t want to let too much water evaporate, or the syrup will reduce and cook down to something resembling krogan poetry: thicker and sweeter than expected. (Try to get past one stanza of Blue Rose of Illium without rolling your eyes out of their sockets, I dare you.)

Salarian Salination Solution

Successfully made your way through the Simple Syrup recipe (page 13) but still feel like you need one more easy win? Perhaps a mixer that’s ideal for citrus-heavy cocktails? Make this bartender’s saline next and keep in mind that science doesn’t always have to be complicated. Science is also very useful, and you’ll find this mixer in a variety of recipes throughout this book. (For the more adventurous, the Liquified Turian on page 57 is a must.) Now, if you think adding sea salt to warm water isn’t exactly “science”, then your name isn’t Sel Vass – a double-crossing salarian bartender who fancies himself an “intoxicologist”. I have… thoughts on that, which is why I’ve named this Salarian Salination Solution after him. And if your name is Sel Vass, I’m going to add your kidneys to my next bar menu – preferably with you still alive. (I’ve heard that when the Protheans did this to your ancestors, they found the fear adds “spice”).

Tupo Concentrate

I love a good Tupo Concentrate: it has a delicious balance of mouth-puckering tartness and euphoric sweetness. The only problem? I can never find any berries! Tupari sports drink-makers horde as much as they can to sell “12 trillion bottles per day”, despite only containing 10 percent real tupo juice (goddess only knows what the other 90 percent of that swill is). Fortunately, grenadine is a perfect substitute for when you’re looking to add a beautiful hue and unexpected depth of flavor to your cocktail.

Drell Skin Venom

Like bitters, Drell Skin Venom adds a nice bite, making your cocktail extraordinarily complex with just a few drops. Now, you might think that enough Drell Skin Venom may grant the memory-recall properties of its erstwhile secretor, but it’s more likely that the high alcohol content (which keeps it in heavy rotation at swanky bars like the Silver Coast Casino) will create more plot holes in your life than the salarian extranet drama Dynasty of Stars (with the same amount of nausea - stick to science, you excitable little amphibians!)

Asari Honey Syrup

For the occasions where you’re looking to spice things up, I’d suggest using this honey syrup. It’s just as versatile as its simple syrup sister but adds a bit more flavor. This particular mixer has a spicy little background as well: the original recipe was made in an Ardat-Yakshi monastery and its honeyed flavor is as alluring as its makers. Considering said makers enjoy nothing less than total domination, however, this syrup is unexpectedly collaborative with numerous drinks and flavors.

AFTERLIFE CLUB What is Afterlife? Why, the ultimate in illicit entertainment. Iconic, chic, ready to show you a good time… but mind your manners. Under all that polish, Afterlife is seething with violence just under the surface. A locus of power and secrecy – is it any wonder the glitzy club sports an ethic of violence and greed? And that’s just how this nightclub’s patrons, and its Pirate Queen, prefer things. Aria T’Loak oversees this particular multilevel palace of paradise and perdition on the space station Omega. And yes, its lure entices millions around the galaxy to leave their ordinary lives for extraordinary adventures, so be sure to show her the proper respect. She’s shot people she liked far more for way less. The recipes in this section are her top sellers – perfect for when you’d rather spend the night in than risk getting poisoned by a batarian bartender with a grudge against humans.

The Omega Sling

This cocktail is a personal favorite of mine from Afterlife for a reason. It’s sweet, tart, bitter, fruity, and spicy all at once. A complex little thing, and a single-serving punch that can also pack one. While it’s definitely a drink made to impress (look at that list of ingredients!), for me, it tastes like personal accomplishment. I once led a raid on a CAT6 outpost that nabbed enough high-end military gear to outfit my crew for a long, long time. It was a bastard to plan, just like the Omega Sling, but that only made the victory that much sweeter.

Blue Sun Spritz

Did you know that the Blue Suns mercenary group was founded by a batarian named Solem Dal’serah? That’s the public-facing story they’d prefer you believe, at least. And to celebrate said founding, Solem toasted the group with this hard-hitting wine spritz. The color ends up being a rich deep blue – a little on the nose, maybe, but it lands most satisfyingly on the tongue.

Tuchanka Sunset

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that krogan don’t have a sense of humor. I used to run with a Battlemaster in my early days whose wit was as dry and vast as an Asterian desert. We survived an Eclipse double-cross by the skin of our teeth, and when we got back to our dingy little hideout, he toasted our fortune with a Tuchanka Sunset. His own personal recipe. He claimed the bartenders at Afterlife know how to make it, if you ask. Now, I love a good sunset drink and as such was appalled to watch him dump black rum on top of an otherwise flawless concoction. Sensing my shock, with a wry half-smile he said, “Well, yeah, wouldn’t be a sunset on Tuchanka without a choking cloud of toxic ash to ruin the view now, would it?”

Serrice Ice Brandy

I find human Alliance officers to be particularly dull and single-minded. So new to space, with such a short lifespan, few know how to relax and have fun. Not so with their medical personnel: disgruntled, overworked, and with the romance of military life quickly snuffed out by the harsh realities of combat, they know how to put the Rs in R & R. Serrice Ice Brandy always reminds me of a particular Alliance officer named Karin Chakwas, very posh and put together, who got a little salty after a drink (or several) of the stuff.

Sovak Juice

Have you heard the one about how krogan males name their infants? According to salarian scientist Padok Wiks, they get drunk on sovak juice and hold belching contests. Apparently, whatever sounds most like a word becomes a name. I doubt there’s much validity to this claim (although… Wrex?) but I still remember the young krogan merc I renamed after a night of tossing back these nutty, bubbly little things together. It’s been a while, but I do sincerely hope Urp is doing well out there. [note on recipe: “Garnish: For sovak juice? Come on, now.”]

Noverian Rum Swizzle

Seeing as rum is a liquor made with sugarcane molasses or sugarcane juice, one might associate it with warm, tropical climates. One would also be wrong and very much missing out on one of the finest varieties in the entire galaxy. I refuse to make this drink with anything less than quality Noverian rum (and Asari Honey Syrup, of course). Once you’ve had a taste, you’ll understand why Aria T’Loak was so sulky after Purgatory’s stock of the stuff ran out. Though, to be fair, having her entire empire occupied by Cerberus General Oleg Petrovsky may have also contributed to her sour mood. For that authentic touch of frost, I recommend harnessing biotics to give your stick the right amount of swizzle.

DARK STAR LOUNGE Dark stars, as a theoretical curiosity, could be extremely powerful. Dark Star Lounge, an actual bar, definitively serves extremely powerful drinks. Located on the Citadel one level up from the C-Sec office in Zakera Ward (a convenient perp walk away when patrons get too rowdy), many bartenders are happy to give customers exactly what they ask for… the “usual” being a thumping hangover. If you like your drinks stiffer than a turian’s carapace, you’ve flipped to the right section. Higher-proof spirits with a higher spirit-to-mixer ratio for a higher class of drinker, Dark Star recipes do not disappoint. I trust you can handle it… and if you happen to wake up next to an attractive stranger the next morning whose name you can’t quite recall, I recommend breaking the ice over some Huevos Rancheros à la Vega (see page 12, you charmer).

Batarian Ale Shandy

If you’re not a krogan or batarian, please don’t drink uncut batarian ale. It’s mean, it’s green, and it will leave your insides clean. Instead, use this recipe to make yourself a refreshing and fizzy shandy. Yes, a human Spectre managed to stay on their feet after chugging a glass of the uncut ale – at least that’s what one Dark Star Lounge bartender claims. But ask yourself: Are you really the type? I’m reminded of a naïve bar patron cosplaying in plastic N7 armor he convinced his poor wife to buy him (along with his shuttle-fare off world, understandably). You’re not “truly extreme”. Do yourself a favor: Check your ego and enjoy the Batarian Ale Shandy.

Dark Star Vespertini

No trip to Dark Star Lounge is complete without ordering this signature cocktail, the Dark Star Vespertini, especially if you have a bit of a sweet tooth. I’ve included the recipe here, at great risk to certain of my… relationships… at the lounge. It’s simply too delicious not to share, with a rich chocolate-raspberry taste. Be sure to shake this one well – for the nonbiotics who need to do this task manually, I liken it to the amount of time until you start to worry your arm will fall off. If it feels like you’re giving the tumbler a quick ride in an M35 Mako, you’re doing it right.

Ryncol Cocktail

Listen up, tough guys. I promise you that bartenders are never impressed when you swagger up and ask for “the strongest you have”. In fact, just to make sure you embarrass yourself in front of your friends, they’ll probably slap on a fake smile and pour you a tall glass of krogan ryncol. Never heard of it? They certainly don’t advertise the stuff. But for fun, let’s spitball some potential slogans: “Ryncol! It hits aliens like ground glass,” or “Ryncol! It’s like sipping knives,” or “Ryncol! It’ll set of radiological alarms.” Just ask a certain Commander Shepard. And enjoy your purple prayers to the porcelain goddess…

Paragade Punch

While Tupari sports drinks are all the rage, don’t discount Paragade! Especially in cocktails. By itself, it’s not too good and it’s not too bad, but mixed with alcohol, it’s somewhat of a revelation. This recipe gives you a layered drink that starts out sweetly and ends with a real kick to the quads. Perfect for those nights where you might hold your tongue at one bar only to start throwing chairs at the next. It takes a deft hand to get the blue-purple-red proportions right when you’re making one, and to get the ending you want after a night of drinking them.

Dextro Heat Sink

Like a boilermaker, the Dextro Heat Sink is a great way of making strong alcohol stronger. During his Archangel days, Garrus Vakarian and his crew would slug these like candy as they racked up wins against the Blue Suns, Blood Pack, and Eclipse thugs on Omega. This is a sweet and spicy tequila cocktail (the “heat”) with a dropped shot of Ancho Reyes liqueur (the “sink”). An unlimited amount of these might be fun at first, with the occasional pause to blow some heat off your tongue, but it’s advised to keep them to a finite amount.

Turian Horosk

Considering the rigidity of turians, you’d need a pretty strong drink to loosen them up enough to get the wedgie out of their thermal armor. Enter: Turian Horosk. Another Garrus Vakarian favorite, you’re not going to find this outside of a handful of bars, and certainly not at the posher Silver Coast Casinos of the ‘verse. So, if you’re looking to calibrate your soberness in the opposite direction, here’s the recipe for you. The lemonade flavor helps it go down easy and the spices are optional – the hangover from too many rounds of this, however, is not.

PURGATORY BAR The Citadel is a tourist trap. Humans tend to view this as a disparaging label, but I say it with great enthusiasm. For my credits, there’s no better way to take in the sights than as a lowercase t tourist, and there’s no better place to do that than the Citadel. If you have the time, a bar named Purgatory serves drinks that are especially heavenly. If you like new takes on classic cocktails with a slightly higher mixer-to-alcohol ratio, sip on these before taking in the sights and sounds of the Presidium. And if you’re just not convinced it’s worth the visit, well, at least you can whip up these drinks at home. And do take your Citadel recommendations with a grain of salt when you’re there (barring the guide currently in your hands, of course). Especially ones coming from the hotshot human Spectre making the rounds – that one will endorse anything for a discount.

Frozen Pyjak

The best part about tending bar? The customers. I learn a little about a lot just by listening. The worst part about tending bar? The customers. Sometimes I don’t have to listen too intently, as their volume increases with their alcohol intake. For fun, I used to give my loudest customers a freebie: the Frozen Pyjak. I overheard Samantha Traynor boasting (loudly, ironically) about this and it sounded too entertaining not to try it out: Every few hours, you empty your spill pad into a martini glass and toss a little ice in for presentation. This is a much nicer variation for you to make. All these ingredients go incredibly well together, so you can serve it to people you actually like. [note on recipe: “Garnish: Well now, that would defeat the point.”]

Full Biotic Kick

My curiosity for the Full Biotic Kick was piqued by a charming young Alliance comms specialist named Samantha Traynor who extolled its virtues. Apparently, this was the most popular drink served when she worked “extensively” as a bartender during her university days… for a whole four years. I understand humans consider this quite the span of time – how quaint. I believe the “kick” comes directly from the Tuchanka Dry, and if you’ve ever faced down a biotic krogan Battlemaster (and lived to tell about it), you’ll understand why.

Vodka Skycar

As the Citadel became increasingly populated and its denizens spread across the wards of this colossal space station, they began to rely more and more on a centralized mode of transportation. Enter the skycar, a maddeningly slow shuttle that, though nowhere near as glacially paced as Citadel elevators, redeems itself with some of the most incredible views in the galaxy. When I need to slow down, I make myself a nice Vodka Skycar, get lost in its pretty sky-blue color, and hire an ambling ride around the glittering Citadel Tower. Magical.

Rojo Loco

Everyone loves a good Rojo Loco: C-Sec, pirates, accountants, politicians, hunky Alliance marines who think pull-up contests and cute little nicknames might get you into their beds (full disclosure, they can, and they have… cheers, James Vega). Because underneath all the stories everyone tells themselves about themselves, at the end of the day, all any of us are really looking for is to enjoy a bit of spice and heat. Maybe that’s a firefight. Maybe that’s filing paperwork. Either way, this drink ticks that box and gives you the same warm tingle.

TM88 Smash

I love a good rebrand. TM88 used to be known as “Merc’s Courage,” because drinking enough of the stuff gave one the false sense of strength that often comes with getting absolutely hammered. Salarians especially took a shine to this Earth-based whiskey and swore it had medicinal properties… when really it was the shortest distance between two points to get a person drunk. Ever the opportunists, salarians branded TM88 as a cure-all and “the only alcoholic drink endorsed by the Medical Board of Sur’Kesh.” Alliance officer Kaidan Alenko credits the stuff for his speedy discharge from Huerta Memorial Hospital. So, drink up! Doctor’s orders.

ETERNITY Due to its extreme opulence and high level of security, the asari-run planet of Illium is a preferred tourist destination and (second, third, fourth) home of many of the galaxy’s most well-known celebrities. It’s also under a state of near-total surveillance. You can take their self-congratulatory media touting Eternity as “the sexiest bar in the Milky Way” with a few handfuls of salt (though with Matriarch Aethyta slinging drinks, “sexiest bartender” would be harder to argue with), but don’t sleep on their drink selection. I have a soft spot for asari drinks, as you might expect. I find them to be sweet and mellow and think Eternity gets them right. I’ve collected a few of my favorites for you here. Regarding the Liquified Turian (page 57) backstory, well… who can say if that one’s legit? But seeing as the normally stringent customs laws of Council space on safety and sapient trafficking are relaxed on Illium, I can’t say I’d be too surprised.  

Mystery Drink

I understand mystique. It’s a powerful weapon that can influence your enemies before you ever need to fire a shot. I also understand bullshit and am very good at differentiating the latter from the former. So, when I first heard this Mystery Drink is rumored to come from “the deepest reaches of the Traverse,” distilled on a “shadowy nameless planet” by “specifically adapted Vorcha,” alarms were ringing in my head. Until I had a sip. Deceptively fruity and floral but highly intoxicating with an otherworldly appearance, well, does it matter where it came from, especially if you can get the same fabulous taste using syrup from canned lychees? No. In the case of this delicious little Mystery Drink, it most certainly does not.

Asari Honey-Mead Bellini

Made in an Ardat-Yakshi monastery, asari honey mead is for those with taste. And, let’s be honest, credits. Whoever said “the best things in life are free” was compensating, because this expensive little drink is worth the experience. Ever the one to push boundaries, I prefer to prepare my honey mead with sparkling wine to make an effervescent little bellini, because the sweet and mellow flavor mixed with bubbles positively sparkles – in the glass and on the soul.

Perfection

I once crossed paths with this pretty little human who called herself Miranda Lawson. Despite her formidable intelligence, killer biotic abilities, and, well, let’s just say her “superior physical constitution,” she seemed to be… missing something. She didn’t say and I didn’t press, but we shared a drink whose taste was as excellent as the woman pouring. Asking her what she called it, she gave a sad smile and simply said, “Perfection”. Indeed. To her surprise (and delight, I might add), I sweetened the affair with a shot of strawberry liqueur and told her, “Yes, but there’s always room for improvement, dear”. Hmm. I wonder if she ever found what she was looking for.

Memory Stealer

Ah, Kasumi Goto. The best thief in the business. You don’t remember her and she prefers it that way. She’s so good, she’ll even nick your memory of her ever having been there… along with whatever valuables you had in your pockets. When I do have the good fortune of remembering her, I like to pour this drink made with Japanese gin in her honor. And like the master thief herself, one too many Memory Stealers will no doubt leave you with a hazy recollection the next morning.

Liquified Turian

“Ambree,” you say. “Certainly, Matriarch Aethyta’s story of a krogan drinking liquified turian on a bet is embellished? A tall tale? Urban legend meant to titillate, disgust, and delight?” Maybe. Regardless, it’s one of my favorites, so I made this drink in homage (and to capitalize off the story – your girl is nothing if not quick to make a quick cred). I use a tequila base, with agave being native to a desert climate like you’d find on Palaven. Of course, I use egg white for the smooth texture, plus saline to stabilize this particular choice of “protein”. And the blue curaçao, well, turian blood is blue, after all! Mm, you can almost taste the dextro-amino acids. [note on recipe: “Garnish: No embellishment needed with a backstory this impressive.”]

FLUX

Flux is one of the more recent night spots to open on the Citadel and boasts a casino in addition to a well-stocked bar. The atmosphere is almost as inviting as the volus who runs the place – alternating between owner, cook, and bartender, one wonders where Doran finds the energy. But at some point, you’ll be sure to find this little macaroon from Irune shaking his pressure suit on the dance floor.

The recipes I’ve collected from Flux are, as you can imagine, fun and whimsical. Seeing as Doran spends an equal amount of time in the kitchen as he does behind the bar, you can also find a fair bit of culinary flare in the drink preparation. Enjoy yourself, Earth-clan!

Tupari Blast

Despite the volus being a race not cut out for physicality of any kind, their mastery of trade and commerce has helped Tupari sports drinks conquer the galaxy. It seems like you can’t swing a dead CAT6 without hitting a vending machine of the stuff, and Doran has a particular fondness for it. I’d be remiss to not include it here, both for its delicious taste and because of how well it sells. Its strong fruity flavor makes it a consistent Flux favorite. It’ll give you the courage to get on the dance floor and the electrolytes to stay there until closing time.

Rum Relay

A toast to the Mass Relays! Forgive my (brief, I promise) indulgence in sentimentality, but the Relays have brought together an array of intelligent life whose differences remind us of how we’re all pretty much the same: unsure of our place in the universe, but in our best moments willing to teach and learn from our Milky Way sisters and brothers. No one understands that better than Doran, and what better way to celebrate it than by sloshing a Rum Relay milk punch all over the dance floor as you boogie the night away.

Blasto Sting

This one unironically loves the Blasto franchise. The acting, the writing, the backdrops? High camp, babe. A human essayist, Sontag, wrote, “You can’t camp about something you don’t take seriously. You’re not making fun of it; you’re making fun out of it.”  And what’s more fun than adding cream to grape Pucker? It creates a hanar in every shot. Try my favorite drinking game: gather your friends, fire up Blasto Saves Christmas, and throw back a Blasto Sting every time he says, “Enkindle THIS!”

Denorian Beer Granita

Krogan are not known for negotiation. If you find yourself mediating with one for goddess’ sake do not show up empty-handed. I tried to bluff my way through just such a situation once and you wouldn’t be reading this book if I hadn’t had ingredients for Denorian Beer Granita on hand. I developed a fondness for Denorian beer from Urdnot Wrex, but this cocktail takes it to another level. In a desperate attempt to cool tensions, I offered to make a round of this unique drink with its smooth taste, fun texture, and visually appealing look. The krogan got the recipe and I got to walk away (with a little extra pep in my step from the caffeine). Win-win.

Tasty Tankard

What can I say? I’m a Matriarch with a Maiden’s tastes: I like a pretty young thing on my arm, a warm Acolyte pistol, and a heaping bowl of human ice cream. Chocolate, if you’re taking notes. The Tasty Tankard is essentially a boozy milkshake, and I urge you to ignore anyone who tries to tell you that drinks made in a blender only belong in cheesy resorts. This one goes down dangerously easy, and the recipe makes enough for two… or one krogan with a sweet tooth. If that krogan happens to be Grunt, I advise having enough on hand to fill a large enough container. Perhaps a flower pot’s worth? [note on recipe: “Serves: 2… or 1 krogan.”]

CHORA’S DEN Not for the faint of heart, Chora’s Den on the Citadel is the “livelier but deadlier” choice to stop for a drink. A gentleman’s club owned by a scoundrel (novel, I know), the clientele and drinks lean heavily towards the strong and seedy type. The loud music and low lighting do well to cover the bloodstains and less-than-legitimate conversations, but you’ll have a great time if you mind your business and tip the asari dancers well. Be sure to ask Fist, the proprietor of this fine establishment, about the back room – it’s perfect for your next shady deal. And I’m not one for gossip, but if you’re curious about the smell, I’ve heard Fist has a habit of burying “old problems” under the dancers’ stage. The following recipes evoke the Den’s more… aggressive tendencies.

Tequila Se’lai

Whether you’re human, turian, or salarian, we’ve all got our shared little “catch phrases” we catch ourselves saying: “Embrace eternity” if you’re asari, “Victory or death” if you’re krogan, ★heavy breathing intensifies★, if you’re volus… you get the idea. I quite like the quarians’ “Keelah Se’lai,” or “By the homeworld I hope to see one day.” Tragic but beautiful. This recipe is an ode to their homeworld, Rannoch, with desert and coastal flavors all brought together with a lovely prickly pear syrup.

Elasa

I’m not really a “drown your sorrows” type of gal. I’m more of the “drown you in a hail of incendiary ammo if you upset me” type. To each their own. If you lean more on a shoulder and less on a trigger, you can’t go wrong with an Elasa, aka Sorrow’s Companion. (They’re not joking when they say it serves one…) Pale green with a bitter aftertaste and tangy sweetness, it’s a great way to take life’s lemons and make lemon garnish for your cocktail (or limes, in this case). Fist, ever putting the gentlemen in gentlemen’s club, used to refer to this drink as The Cynthia, a snide reference to Elasa being Alliance Commander David Anderson’s preferred drink during his divorce.

Quad Kicker

Not for the faint of heart, the Quad Kicker will, well, kick you straight in the quad, I suppose. Samantha Traynor is adamant about “no curry powder” in her version, but why take away that spicy mouthfeel? Add that curry simple syrup and let this baby wake you up! It ain’t called the Quad Fondler, so step up and throw down with your friends (or enemies).

Shadowbrokertini

I hope by this point you’ve come to realize that I know everything that’s worth knowing. Yet I humbly admit that, try as I might, I’m still unable to unmask the Shadow Broker. But I am familiar with their agents, including a certain proprietor of Chora’s Den. And even though Fist refuses to confess what he knows (which, I suspect, is even less than I do), he did agree to collaborate on a cocktail worthy of that confidential entity. Dark, shadowy, and with enough caffeine to help keep one sharp in the secrets-trading game, the Shadowbrokertini theatrically uses dry ice to add an air of mystery. I trust you don’t need the Shadow Broker’s services to know that swallowing dry ice can kill you, yes? [note on recipe: “(Note: Some Shadow Brokers prefer it without lime at all.)”]

The Erotic Biotic

I suppose I should start this one off with a warning: Don’t underestimate young asari. Yes, there is a strong drive for at the Maiden stage to explore and experience. Curious and restless, some look for the nearest bar to dance in. But that’s no reason to let your guard down. Many don’t realize their mistake until they’re telekinetically slammed into the nearest concrete wall. Well, that’s just the ratio of risk-to-reward that Chora’s Den captures with this drink. With a winky flavor profile of fruit and cream, finish your Erotic Biotic with Drell Skin Venom to add a tingly bite (for the adventurous types), or with chocolate bitters (for the romantics). I like a bit of both – I may be a Matriarch, yet I’ve never lost that desire to explore and experience…

The Shifty Cow

While I’ve heard just about every maxim in the ‘verse, one rings particularly true: “You can’t trust any animal that can milk itself.” Yes, I’m talking about space cows, with their unsettling, grabby little hands. Turn your back around one and they’ll pick through your pockets. The Shifty Cow cocktail is a clarified milk punch. And that’s partly because it’s fun to separate the milk solids from the drink, but also because I’m reminded of these audacious little cows eagerly separating an unsuspecting fool from their credits. And yes, we do have that in common, which reminds me of a human maxim: “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You win this round, space cows.

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[you can get the book here]

[watchnrant]

Agatha All Along Episode 7: Easter Eggs & References

Death’s Hand in Mine

Lilia Calderu’s Epic Leap into Her Destiny

In Agatha All Along Episode 7, “Death’s Hand in Mine,” that haunting line from Ballad of the Witches’ Road hits hard, especially for Lilia Calderu. This isn’t just another dramatic beat—it’s the heart of her story. Lilia knows exactly what’s coming, and instead of running from it, she steps right up and grabs it by the hand. She’s not just staring down death; she’s embracing it, ready to take her destiny head-on.

What’s truly wild is that her sacrifice isn’t just about going out in a blaze of glory; it’s a calculated move. Lilia realizes this is the only way to save her coven, and she’s all in. Her death isn’t born from fear but from a fierce determination to protect those she loves. As she plunges into the unknown, she flips what could’ve been a tragic ending into an epic act of heroism.

Witchcraft and Wardrobes

Channeling the Magic of Iconic Witches—Wicked, Glamorous, and Sinister

In Agatha All Along Episode 7, we dive headfirst into a magical realm where our favorite characters channel iconic witches from fantasy lore. This isn’t just a costume party; it’s a masterclass in storytelling that enriches our understanding of who they are and what they represent. Each outfit and persona acts like a mirror, reflecting deep themes of power, identity, and legacy in the world of witchcraft.

Agatha Harkness as the Wicked Witch of the West: When Agatha transforms into the Wicked Witch, she’s not just throwing on some green makeup and a black dress. No, this is a bold statement. The Wicked Witch is the epitome of cunning and darkness, and Agatha steps right into those shoes (or should we say, flying broomsticks). This parallel isn’t merely superficial; it invites us to question the nature of villainy. In The Wizard of Oz, the Wicked Witch is all about control, much like Agatha, who deftly manipulates events to carve out her narrative. By embodying this classic character, Agatha challenges our assumptions about good and evil, pushing us to explore the grey areas in between.

Billy Maximoff as Maleficent: Then we have Billy, rocking a look straight out of Maleficent’s wardrobe. This isn’t just a nod to the Disney villain; it highlights the complexity of Billy’s character. Maleficent is often portrayed as a symbol of empowerment, reclaiming her narrative after being wronged—sound familiar? Billy’s journey of self-discovery and grappling with his powers parallels this. By dressing as Maleficent, Billy taps into the darker aspects of his own identity, showing us that with great power comes not just the potential for heroism, but also the risk of losing oneself in the shadows of legacy.

Lilia Calderu as Glinda the Good Witch of the South: Lilia, on the other hand, embodies Glinda, the Good Witch. Draped in an ethereal gown, she radiates hope and support within the witch community. Glinda is a guiding light, offering wisdom and nurturing strength, and Lilia steps into this role with grace. This costume choice isn’t just about aesthetics; it reinforces the importance of sisterhood and collaboration among witches. In a world where Agatha often manipulates, Lilia’s character reminds us that power can also uplift and unite. She’s the bright spot amid the chaos, hinting at her potential to mediate the conflicts brewing around her.

Jennifer Kale as Snow White’s Hag: Last but not least, we have Jennifer, transforming into the menacing hag from Snow White. This choice is both haunting and poignant, capturing Jennifer’s tumultuous journey. The hag symbolizes the darker aspects of femininity, manipulation, and survival—elements that resonate deeply with Jennifer’s backstory as an 11th-generation root worker. By adopting this persona, Jennifer confronts her past traumas and societal perceptions of witches as malevolent. This metamorphosis is a declaration of resilience and reclamation, showcasing her evolution from victim to a powerful force in the magical realm.

Spellbinding Themes and Character Dynamics

This episode isn’t just about costumes; it’s a narrative device that lays bare the characters’ motivations and the overarching themes of the series.

Identity and Empowerment: The costumes serve as a canvas for each character’s struggle for self-definition in a world that loves to pigeonhole witches. Agatha’s embrace of her villainous side, Billy’s link to Maleficent, Lilia’s nurturing role, and Jennifer’s reclamation of her identity all spotlight the diverse spectrum of witchcraft. The show encourages us to reflect on how personal experiences and societal expectations shape who we become.

Sisterhood and Conflict: The dynamic between these witches highlights the delicate balance between unity and rivalry. Lilia’s supportive nature as Glinda is a stark contrast to Agatha’s more duplicitous tendencies, creating a rich ground for both conflict and collaboration. This tension echoes the broader theme of sisterhood, illustrating how witches can either lift each other up or become adversaries, depending on the choices they make.

Legacy and the Weight of History: Each character’s costume is a reminder of the rich histories they embody, prompting us to consider how their pasts shape their present identities. Whether it’s Agatha grappling with her villainous reputation, Billy dealing with familial expectations, Lilia confronting societal roles, or Jennifer struggling against limitations, the interplay of legacy and personal choice creates a narrative that resonates deeply with the complexities of modern witchcraft.

By weaving these references to iconic fantasy witches throughout history, Episode 7 of Agatha All Along not only pays tribute to beloved characters but also invites us to dig deeper into themes of power, identity, and the evolution of witchcraft in today’s storytelling landscape. It’s a beautiful reminder that the past informs the present, and in the world of witchcraft, nothing is ever as simple as black and white.

Another Trial, Another Countdown

The Hourglass Pushes Us One Step Closer to Destiny

The trial motif cranks up the tension in Episode 7 with the hourglass—your classic “time’s running out” symbol, and for Lilia, it’s hitting hard. She’s been battling against time her entire life, but the hourglass is the ultimate countdown to a fate she can’t dodge. It’s not just there for dramatic flair, though. This hourglass ties back to earlier episodes, where we had the kitchen timer in Episode 3, a metronome in Episode 4, and that retro ’80s digital watch in Episode 5. These weren’t just fun props—they were breadcrumbs leading to this moment. Time has always been Lilia’s greatest enemy, and as the sand slips away, so do her chances of rewriting her destiny. Her trial isn’t on the horizon anymore—it’s happening now.

Agatha Labels Lilia “Dory”

When Memory Lapses Meet a Perfect Pixar Zing

In Episode 7, Agatha’s sarcasm hits a new high when she calls Lilia “Dory” as she struggles to make sense of her disjointed memories. This clever jab is a clear reference to the forgetful fish from Finding Nemo and Finding Dory, voiced by Ellen DeGeneres. Just like the animated character who can’t keep a thought in her head for more than a few seconds, Lilia’s chaotic memory issues get a playful dig from Agatha, proving once again that no pop culture reference is off-limits when it comes to her sharp-tongued humor.

Billy’s Reunion Prophecy

Tommy Isn’t the Only Possibility

In Billy’s reading, Lilia drops the bombshell of an upcoming reunion. Naturally, Billy’s mind jumps straight to his twin brother Tommy—after all, that’s the whole reason he’s on this journey. But here’s the kicker: it might not be Tommy. This reunion could take a wild turn and involve someone unexpected, like the Scarlet Witch or even Vision. Whoever it is, you can bet it’s going to shake things up in a big way.

Lilia’s Flashbacks Pay Off Big

It All Comes Together in Episode 7

In Agatha All Along Episode 7, we finally get confirmation that all of Lilia’s seemingly random outbursts throughout the season are tied to her out-of-sync existence in time. Every cryptic line she’s dropped has been a breadcrumb leading us to this moment. Here’s a breakdown of each phrase in the order it was first said

“Wispy or Kooky?” – Episode 4

“Alice Don’t” – Episode 4

“Try to Save Agatha” – Episode 3

“I Hated This the First Time” – Episode 5

“Get Off Me” – Episode 2

“You Know We Really Hated Each Other in the Beginning, But Now…” – Episode 3

“I Love You Guys” – Episode 3

When you piece them together, it’s pretty touching to realize that some of Lilia’s final words were expressions of her newfound love for the coven. The bonds she formed as they walked down the Witches’ Road make her sacrifice even more impactful. Her out-of-sequence life wasn’t just a quirky character trait—it became the key to saving her coven when the Salem Seven came knocking. Lilia’s journey may have been chaotic, but in the end, it was all part of her story of loyalty and selflessness.

Lilia’s Tarot Drop in Episode 7

The Cards Are More Than Magic—They’re the Coven

Throughout Agatha All Along, Lilia Calderu’s cryptic outbursts weren’t just random—they were actually names of Tarot cards that come into play during her trial in Episode 7. Here’s how each Tarot card, previously mentioned by Lilia, ties into key characters and moments:

Queen of Cups – This one is all Lilia. She’s the intuitive force, trusting her inner voice even when time itself is working against her.

Three of Pentacles – Represents the entire coven. It’s about collaboration and sisterhood, something Lilia had been missing but ultimately finds in her fellow witches.

Knight of Wands – Linked to Alice and her recent death, symbolizing the path already taken and what’s been lost.

High Priestess – All eyes on Jennifer here. She’s the future, holding immense spiritual power, even if she’s not ready—or willing—to use it yet.

Three of Swords – Agatha holding Billy, representing the obstacles ahead: heartbreak, sorrow, and grief. It’s the emotional weight hanging over them all.

Tower (Reversed) – A symbol of destruction and upheaval, but reversed, it hints at miraculous transformation amidst the chaos.

Death – Of course, Lady Death herself, marking the inevitable end. “Death Comes for Us All” rings loud and clear here.

The way Agatha All Along uses these Tarot cards to weave together Lilia’s journey is brilliant. Episode 7 really nails the narrative payoff, showing how each card connects not just to Lilia, but to the entire arc of the show. It’s a well-executed nod to both Lilia’s fate and the future that awaits the coven.

Rio’s Big Mic Drop

Lady Death? Yeah, She’s the OG Green Witch

Well, there it is! Rio just claimed the title of Lady Death, proving she’s been the original Green Witch all along. Things are about to get real wild!

Episode 7 of Agatha All Along drops a bombshell in its final moments��Lilia finds out that Rio Vidal is none other than the living embodiment of Death herself. Yup, you heard that right. Turns out, Rio’s the original Green Witch, and all those subtle clues sprinkled throughout the season finally come full circle. Oh, and Agatha? She knew the whole time, of course. With this massive reveal now out in the open, the last two episodes are set to explore just how insanely powerful Rio really is, and let’s be real—the stakes just got cranked up to eleven.

“Time in a Bottle” Packs a Punch

Lilia’s Emotional Rollercoaster and a Nod to Quicksilver’s Epic Scene

In Agatha All Along Episode 7, we get hit with Jim Croce’s “Time in a Bottle” during the end credits, and let me tell you, it’s not just background noise—it’s a deep cut into Lilia’s entire journey. This track does more than just set the tone; it taps into her power, her sacrifice, and the emotional weight of her story. When Lilia says, “Time is an illusion,” it’s not just a throwaway line—it’s the crux of her whole deal, living her life in a way that doesn’t follow a straight path.

The lyrics, “If I could save time in a bottle… just to spend them with you,” basically summarize Lilia’s abilities. She’s lived with time bottled up inside her, experiencing moments out of order. But, like the song, she couldn’t actually control it—she could only observe, never change. It’s that heartbreaking realization that, while she has the power to see everything, the moments still slip through her fingers. Much like Croce’s wish to preserve time for someone he loves, Lilia experiences her own life’s key moments—both the good and the gut-wrenching—but they always feel more like fate than choice.

Croce’s next line, “But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do, once you find them,” hits hard for Lilia. Even with her foresight, even knowing what’s coming, she couldn’t avoid the tragedies she saw. It was all laid out in front of her, but she was locked into it, just like her destiny. And in her final moments, she sacrifices herself, not because she had a choice, but because she had already seen it play out. That’s the kicker—it wasn’t desire driving her actions, it was inevitability.

“If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that had never come true…” Okay, this line? It sums up Lilia’s entire existence. She wasn’t making decisions based on dreams or hopes—she was following a script she’d already lived. Everything she did—casting the sigil, warning Agatha—wasn’t a choice. It was something she’d already done, over and over again, like a broken record. And the acceptance of that is what makes her story so tragic yet powerful.

By the time her death arrives, Lilia’s already prepared. She knew it was coming, and her Maestra’s lesson—that divination is about bracing for the future, not changing it—was the backbone of her life. She fought against what she saw but couldn’t escape it. Her story, much like Croce’s song, is a bittersweet reminder that no matter how much we wish to freeze time or hold onto moments, it’s always slipping away.

Now, for the Marvel fans out there, let’s not forget the bigger picture here. “Time in a Bottle” was also the iconic soundtrack for Quicksilver’s unforgettable scene in X-Men: Days of Future Past, and with Evan Peters’ appearance in Agatha All Along, the connection feels like more than a casual nod. Just like Lilia’s fate, the song is all about love, loss, and the ticking clock we can’t outrun. It leaves us wondering—if Lilia could’ve truly controlled her time, how much would she have saved?