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stevie-petey · 13 hours ago

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episode eight: papa

“We’re felons.” Your eyes are squeezed shut as you rub your stomach, nauseous. “I can’t believe we just stole that poor couple’s home.” “Think Spidey would understand?” Steve spares you a glance as he drives. “Don’t ever evoke his name while committing a felony.”

Summary: steve is on the brink of a constant nervous breakdown, eddie questions your taste in music, you and max go halfsies on your lives, angry hicks are scary, and the end of the world is near so of course now is the time for every emotional conversation ever. duh !

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, weapons, talk of death, lowkey suicidal thoughts but barely ??

Words: 15.9k

Before you swing in: hey gang !!! this chapter is a goddamn monster. it took forever to write for a million reasons, but the payoff is worth it in my biased opinion. we get a LOT of conversations in this chapter, all that have been brewing for seasons !!!!! the narrative is narrativing !!! we only have one more chapter, so sit back, relax, n enjoy :)

–

When Steve was a little kid, he would have nightmares about losing his parents.

They started when he was seven. In the first dream, his mother had been in the car. She was driving away from him, beckoning him to follow, but Steve’s scrawny legs couldn’t keep up; he hadn’t reached her in time.

He remembers waking up screaming for her. The terror of abandonment was heavy within his chest. It stifled his breathing. He remembers thinking that he was going to die.

May Harrington rushed into her son’s room upon hearing his screams. She clutched him to her chest, smoothed down his wild hair. Steve had been too upset to explain the dream to her, then. His body simply melted into her embrace, relieved that she had still been there with him. That she hadn’t really left him.

The dreams continued after that night.

One time he had dreamt that his father locked him in the closet and told him that no one would ever see him again. Another night, Steve dreamt that his mother no longer loved him. That his love for her hadn’t been enough to convince her to stay.

The dreams came sporadically. Sometimes Steve would go weeks without one. Other times, he would have one every night for a month.

His father detested the dreams. He loathed what they did to his son. Not because of the fear that plagued Steve’s now pale skin, but because of how weak they made him. Richard Harrington would grip Steve’s arm tightly and command him to stop crying. The grip would leave bruises alongside his tear stained face.

When Steve was nine, now too old to be having such vivid nightmares, his mother rocked him back and forth in her arms after a particularly difficult nightmare. Steve’s hiccupping breath echoed his tightening grip on the woman.

“Oh, my beautiful boy. You’ll never lose me.” May stroked his back, her soothing voice floated around Steve.

Steve clutched his mother even tighter. “But what if I do?”

May coaxed his head from her neck. She looked at him with such tenderness, such love. Her fingers grazed Steve’s face gently as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. She hummed, her voice lovely as always. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

“What secret, momma?”

Steve will never forget the way his mother smiled at him. “When you love someone, you can never really lose them.”

And the secret settled a deep ache of uncertainty within her son. He loved hard and fast from then on. If Steve loved everyone he ever met, then he couldn’t lose them.

But then Steve was seventeen and he lost Nancy Wheeler.

Now Steve is nineteen and he’s about to lose you.

One minute Nancy had been climbing up the rope. Your arms brushed Steve’s and your warmth reassured him that everything was going to be okay. You’d made it out. You were going to escape from the Upside Down and hold one another as soon as this was all over.

Until Nancy’s grip on the rope loosened and she fell. Steve barely had time to catch her before her dead weight landed upon him. Managing to stand her up, Steve finally realized what was happening. Her skin was pale and her body stiff.

She had gone into a vision.

That’s when Steve turned to you.

His entire world collapsed after that. You were frozen as well, as stiff as Nancy. The veins in your neck were pulled taunt. Steve thinks he screamed.

And now he’s alone. You and Nancy have been taken from him. He can’t break you from whatever spell Vecna has the two of you under.

“Y/N!”

Steve doesn’t recognize his own voice. He can’t feel his body. He can’t feel yours beneath his hands as he desperately shakes you. Everything is numb from the fear that paralyzes him.

The whites of your eyes blind him. Steve doesn’t know when they rolled back.

“Steve, what’s going on down there?” Dustin’s voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. Every nerve in your brother’s body is on edge. Something isn’t right. You’re too still.

“He’s-he’s got them!” Steve can’t bring himself to let go of you. He just wants to see the color in your eyes again. He wants you to wake up and laugh at him and call him stupid names and remind him that he’s yours.

Above Steve he can hear screaming. Everyone starts shouting at one another, running around in a panic. No one knows what to do.

“Stay with me, angel.” Steve cradles your head. “Please.”

He can’t lose you. Steve wouldn’t survive a world without you in it. All the warmth and love within the world would leave the second you took your last breath.

A body lands beside yours, tearing you out of Steve’s grasp. Seeing red, he turns, fists clenched and ready to throw a punch, but he only finds Dustin. The kid’s eyes are shell shocked, a manic look in them as he shakes his sister.

“Do you have her walkman?”

Steve almost can’t hear him over the pounding of his heart. “W-what?”

“Y/N’s walkman!” Dustin exclaims, rifting through your pockets. His hands are shaking and he can’t form any other thought besides finding the goddamn walkman. He knows you have it. He made sure that you wouldn’t go anywhere without it. “Steve, where is it?”

“I-I don’t know!” He can’t breathe. He’s too paralyzed by the idea of losing you forever. Then he remembers Nancy and it’s all too much. He can’t lose her either. She’s a part of him in a way that Steve will never be able to explain. “What about Nancy? What the hell do we do?”

“We need to find the fucking walkman.” When Dustin’s fingers feel plastic in your pocket, hope jumps in his throat. Letting out a breath, he pulls it out and quickly gets to work on unwrapping all the plastic that encases it. Only the wrapping is too thick, Dustin wants to scream. “Help me get this shit off!”

Steve yanks the device out of the boy’s grasp and claws at the mess of plastic and knots. Dustin had made sure to secure it when he left you at Lover’s Lake. While it kept the walkman bone dry, you’re now paying the price. It’s almost impossible to tear off.

“Fuck!” Steve tries to bite through it, but it’s no use.

“Give me it.” Dustin snatches the walkman back, now holding your knives. He starts cutting through the plastic quickly, but he notices Nancy start to convulse next to you. Panicking, Dustin shouts at Steve, “Help her!”

“But what about Y/N–”

“Now isn’t the goddamn time to argue!” Dustin screeches. He’s almost finished cutting through all the plastic. “I have Y/N. Focus on Nancy!”

It’s what you would want. Steve and Dustin both know this. And as much as it physically pains Steve to let go of you, he knows that you’d never forgive him if he allowed Nancy to die.

Stumbling over his feet, he grabs her shoulders. Her body is as cold as yours. Her own whites of her eyes taunt Steve. Shaking Nancy, he screams up to the others, “Whatever you guys are doing, hurry up!”

“I got it!” Dustin holds up the now freed walkman, cheering. He can save you. He will save you. All he has to do now is put the headphones over your ears and play the music you love and his sister will be okay.

But then your body starts to convulse. The sight is gruesome. Your fingers bend sideways, your neck snaps back, and your chest collapses into itself. Terrified, Dustin screams your name over and over again.

Hearing the boy’s pained cries, Steve tears himself away from Nancy. When he sees your body shaking violently, bile and fury rise to his throat. “No.”

He’ll be damned if you die tonight. Steve grabs the walkman from Dustin and opens it. Inside, there’s only one tape.

For bug.

“Henderson, look at me.” There’s a list of songs messily scrawled on it. Steve shoves the cassette in Dustin’s face, forcing him to read the tracks on it. “Which one is her favorite?”

Dustin struggles to catch his breath. He forces his vision to sharpen, the words float around in his head. They’re all songs he doesn’t know. None of them would work, none of them except–

“The Beatles!” Dustin is already queuing the song, fingers shaking. They’re your favorite band. When you were younger, your father would softly play their songs on his guitar every Sunday morning. Dustin was never able to remember the lyrics, but you always did.

Steve shoves the headphones on you. Dustin presses play.

That’s when your body lifts.

–

Music.

There is music. A familiar guitar progression. Someone used to strum their fingers to produce the same chords. Their rough timbre would accompany the strings and the sweet smell of pine and grass would lull you.

There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed.

Green. Over a hill there is a house. Floorboards creak beneath your feet and there is a yellow couch pressed against the window, overlooking the flowers in the garden. Somewhere there is laughter. You’re a little girl chasing your younger brother around the tree, giggling.

Some forever, not for better. Some have gone and remain.

A moving van. The boxes you spent hours packing are shoved into the vehicle roughly. A long drive. A small town, smaller than the one you ran away from. There is a new house with a yellow door to match the couch your mother got to keep. Across the street a boy with black hair is riding his bike. Your brother follows him.

Night falls and you’re standing on someone’s porch. There’s a boy your age and his hair falls into his eyes. Words are exchanged. He tells you his name is Jonathan. Your hand touches his and suddenly the world doesn’t feel so lonely anymore. The front door opens. A girl tells you your brother is inside with hers. She’s shy, small and beautiful, but her eyes are cunning.

All these places had their moments. With lovers and friends, I still can recall.

A smaller house owned by a woman who radiates warmth and love for you. Her sons and their adoration. Bug and bee and childhood nicknames. Sleepless nights filled with hushed laughter. Whispered I love you’s. The smell of fresh baked cookies and the sound of four boys who all view you as their sister.

There’s a boy with pretty brown eyes and pink lips. Hands wrap around your waist as he saves you. Over and over again he saves you. He begs you for a nickname. His smile fills your lungs and you’re falling. Angel. He calls you angel.

A girl with fiery red hair and a girl who prefers your touch over words. They giggle together. You dress them in your old clothes. Ice cream melts against your tongues and the summer heat kisses your cheeks. There’s another girl. She’s older. You're in a bathroom stall together and she laughs at all your jokes and calls you pretty girl.

Some are dead and some are living. In my life, I’ve loved them all.

An old man wearing a police hat. He reminds you of your father. Gruff and bitter but he lets you tease him. A cabin in the woods and the waffles he always made for you. A home he has made for you and his daughter.

There are cold, blue eyes. The boy is your age but the anger within him resembles your father’s. He’s violent. Alone. He’s all alone. Blood drips from his body and you hear a girl scream his name. Billy.

Your mother cradles your face as you cry. She tells you she’s sorry. Your brother tells you he misses who you used to be. The kindness that you burned to spite your father.

Soft lips kiss your stained hands. The mouth whispers reassurances. He tells you he loves you. Late night drives. Kissing underneath the stars. Constants and honey and forgiveness.

A charm bracelet. Building a fort in the rain. Biking to houses with a band of kids in tow. Singing songs in a field. Bickering and loyalty and friendship that leaves you in awe.

Though I know I’ll never lose affection for people and things that went before.

Memories float through you, into you, around you.

And you remember.

I know I’ll often stop and think about them.

You remember everything.

“Y/N!”

Steve’s voice pulls you back to where you belong. He’s pleading. Dustin’s screams cut through the noise in your head. Everything is muffled. You can’t move. Why can’t you move? They’re screaming for you and you can’t get to them.

In my life, I love you more.

But you love them. With everything within you, you love them. There is a blinding light of molten warmth of love in your rib cage. They put it there. It melts your bones. They need you. All this love within you is theirs, so why can’t you move?

“Y/N, angel, stay with me.”

You want it more than anything. You want to stay. You want to live. You can’t leave them behind. Any of them. Steve and Dustin and Jonathan and Robin and Nancy and Max and–

Pain erupts in your ankle as your body lands harshly on the ground. It shocks your system, causing your eyes to fly open.

Steve is cradling you in his arms. He holds onto you desperately and he’s crying. Sharp inhales expand your lungs as sobs choke your breath. Your skin slides against Steve’s and he’s warm and rough and littered with scars and you aren’t sure if any of this is real.

But Steve is holding you. If this is some sick, twisted vision, then at least you’ll die in his arms. Your death will have been worth something if Steve’s face is the last thing you see. Yet when you look into his eyes, the fear and desperation within them is real. The tears are real. The agony and love is real.

He’s real.

“Y/N! Angel, oh my God.” Steve’s hands grip your face. He’s ashen and music still plays. His pleas are muffled by it, you can barely make out what he’s saying. He risks looking away from you for a second. “Dustin! She-she’s awake!”

Within seconds your brother falls to his knees and presses his face to your stomach. He’s crying. The hot tears burn your bloodied skin but your weak hands still find him anyways. You hold Dustin tightly, selfishly. When you try to bury your face in Steve’s shoulder, something solid knocks against your head.

“Keep your headphones on.” Steve blocks your hand from taking them off. He isn’t letting you take them off ever again.

Headphones. The music playing, the memories that guided you home. Steve had saved you with your walkman. The realization causes you to jerk in his arms. You’re alive. This is real. Vecna almost killed you. You escaped.

Then where is Nancy?

“Nancy–” You try to get up, but Steve and Dustin hold you down. Panic swells in your chest. Nancy was with you. Vecna brought the two of you into his world, yet only one of you made it out. “Where is she? Is she–?”

Steve’s eyes betray him, revealing to you where Nancy is. She stands across from you, catatonic, and suddenly all the fear is back again. Tearing out of Dustin’s and Steve’s grasps, you run towards her.

“Nancy!” You shake her viciously. She has to wake up. It can’t just be you who gets to live. You won’t let him win. Not like this. Above you, you see Max and Lucas running around. Eddie’s trailer is a wreck. They’re searching for something. “What are they looking for?”

Dustin tugs Nancy’s arm. “Music for her. It’s our only option.”

“Music.” you mumble, the song from your childhood still playing through your headphones. Nancy needs music. It’s the only way to get through to someone under Vecna’s curse. It’s what saved you.

A song from your childhood brought you back to the ones you love. With Nancy’s life on the line, the song has to bring her back to you, too.

Ripping your headphones off, you shove them onto Nancy’s head. Steve and Dustin scream at you to put them back on. Your body had been floating not even a minute ago, but you don’t care. Ignoring their protests, your fingers fumble trying to find any possible song on the mixtape that can save her.

“Please,” fresh tears fall onto the walkman. You can’t lose Nancy. Your relationship may be strained and complicated and tainted by a history neither one of you created yourselves, but she’s your dearest admiration. The world would be dim without her spark. You’ve lost so many people in your life. Pressing your forehead to Nancy’s, you breathe out, “Not you. I can’t lose you, too.”

A strangled gasp escapes Nancy’s mouth. The sound startles you, barely giving you or Steve enough warning to catch her as she falls.

“You’re okay,” you brush her hair out of her face. Nancy’s chest rises and falls quickly. She’s hyperventilating, in a deep state of panic, and you hold her face delicately. She’s like a frightened deer, you’re afraid you’ll speak too loud and scare her away. “You’re okay, it’s okay.”

Steve is careful not to move her in his arms. “Breathe, Nancy. We’re right here.”

The words are meant to be calming. Your hands on Nancy’s face are meant to make her feel safe, loved. But she stares up at you and Steve with tears in her eyes and despair etched into her skin.

Nancy begins to cry even harder and you don’t know what to do. “I need you to breathe–”

“The-the music.” She tries to sit up, but Steve won’t let her. Arms weak, she struggles against him. She looks at you frantically, trying to tear the headphones off of her. “You-you need them. He almost-he almost got you. The things he showed me, they were–”

Nancy sobs again, barely able to look at you out of guilt.

She remembers what she saw in your vision.

The knowledge of this is ice cold against your skin, but there’s something else in Nancy’s reaction that unnerves you. This isn’t just about her now knowing your insecurities regarding her. This is something deeper. Bigger than any estranged relationship.

Vecna made her see something else.

Swallowing deeply, you level your eyes to hers. “Tell me everything, Nancy.”

And she does.

–

Max’s trailer is all you have left. The cops swarmed Nancy’s house the second Patrick’s body was found. Your home is barricaded off from the public. They’re looking for Dustin, for you, and you don’t want to imagine how distraight your mother must be right now.

For lack of better words, it’s fucking depressing sitting in Max’s trailer surrounded by everyone. Exhaustion ghosts their faces.

Lucas can’t seem to look away from you, the exhaustion of fear dulling his skin. Max taps her fingers anxiously. She hasn’t left your side since you’ve returned. Eddie nods at you, solemn. Erica, who arrived after the cops interrogated her, gives you a pitying look.

Robin and Dustin hover you as if afraid you’ll disappear. Steve sits on the couch and presses his legs against your back as you sit on the floor; he needs to feel the heat of your body at all times. A reminder to him that you’re still alive.

Nancy stands across from everyone. She insisted on doing this herself, that you didn’t need to be standing with her. While she’s always been stubborn and brave, you know she only does this because of the guilt.

“He showed me things that haven’t happened yet,” Nancy rasps. Her eyes remain on the floor. She can’t look at anyone while she describes all the wreckage she saw. Downtown Hawkins on fire. Dead soldiers littering the streets.

“And this giant creature, with a gaping mouth. It wasn’t-it wasn’t alone.” Nancy bites the inside of her cheek. She can’t afford to be afraid now. “There were so many monsters. An army. And they… they were coming into Hawkins. Into our neighborhoods. Our homes.”

Your nails dig into your palms. The sting quells the fear that rises within you. The more Nancy describes, more fury replaces your nausea. Hawkins is your home. There are so many good people within this town. Your family. The Wheelers. The Byers and the Sinclairs and the Mayfields and everyone else.

So many innocent lives. All reduced to rubble and death by a rotting corpse from the Upside Down.

Yet you still can’t get a hold of El. The only person who truly has any idea of how to stop Vecna is gone. She’s across the country with a landline that apparently doesn’t fucking work. It’s bullshit. It’s all complete and utter bullshit.

“He showed me my mom. And Holly. Mike… And they were all–” When Nancy breaks, your fury melts into sympathy. You’re walking over to her in seconds, and Nancy throws herself into your arms as she cries.

“He won’t hurt them.” You promise her, though it’s an empty promise that you both recognize. Neither one of you has any idea of how to stop Vecna. But Nancy clings to the comfort and allows herself to be weak.

Lost in your worry for the girl, you miss Dustin speaking to you. He clears his throat awkwardly, raises his voice. You turn your attention to him, nodding to indicate you’re listening.

“Did you see the same thing as Nancy?” Dustin asks you, shifting uncomfortably. The reminder of your body rising into the air only hours ago burns. “Did you… did you share the same vision?”

You and Nancy stiffen at the same time. She pulls away from you as if you’ve burned her. The shame of what she saw in your vision… Too much was revealed to her in an unfair way.

No one can ever know what you saw. It’s too painful, too embarrassing, but you know that the information could be important. Clearing your throat, you answer with what you can. “No, he didn’t show me Hawkins, just my…”

Your voice trails off. Everyone looks at you expectantly, waiting for more. Nancy described her visions in such detail, yet all you can give them are a few words.

“Just my insecurities.” You clear your throat again. “He was trying to scare me. Similar to what he showed Max. I only got out of it because Steve saved me with the music.” He smiles at you, though it’s pained. Trying to ease the heaviness in the room, you shrug halfheartedly. “The Beatles. Saving lives since 1986.”

It works, albeit with minimal reactions.

“The Beatles, huh?” Eddie gives you a weak smile. “That’s really what you consider music?”

“I almost died. Cut me some slack.”

Eddie opens his mouth to say more, but Steve shoves a hand in his face and shuts him up. He’s anxious. He hates how much the nine of you still don’t know. He doesn’t want to believe that Nancy’s vision had been real. “Maybe that’s all Vecna is doing. Trying to scare us. It’s not real.”

“Not yet.” Nancy lets out a defeated laugh. She isn’t convinced. Neither are you. That’s when she reveals the gates. How there were four of them spread across Hawkins. “This wasn’t the Upside Down Hawkins. This was our Hawkins. Our home.”

The hair on your arms stands up. He’s targeting your home. The fury is back; you hate Vecna. You hate him with everything within you.

Yet, in sickening irony, from the little you know about Vecna, you do know that nothing he does is accidental. He wouldn’t show Nancy four gates without it meaning something. A deep, awful churning sensation constricts in your esophagus. “Is he… trying to combine our worlds?”

“Four chimes.” Max finally speaks up. “Vecna’s clock.”

Everyone turns. Max only looks at you. “It always chimes four times. You heard them, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” your mouth is dry. The chimes were the first thing you heard. It was how you knew Vecna had gotten you. “I heard them.”

“I heard them, too.” Nancy whispers.

The room almost seems to hold its breath as everyone comes to the realization at the same time; you’re too afraid to breathe life into the words. Vecna has been telling you his plan this entire time.

“Four kills.” Lucas slowly looks around the room. “Four gates… End of the world.”

His voice trails off and Dustin’s stomach drops. He studies everyone’s faces. No one seems to realize yet what he has. Dustin looks at you and for the first time in his life resents his intelligence; he wishes he could be naive.

“If that’s true…” Dustin can’t say it. He can’t bring himself to say it.

“Then he’s only one kill away.” You finish for your brother, instinctively looking at Max. While everyone reacts to what you’ve said, cursing and filling with dread, you and Max stare at one another. You’re both thinking the same thing.

Vecna is one kill away, and you’re both marked.

Max’s jaw clenches. She can practically read your mind, knowing that you hope the death will be yours. That you’ll do anything to be the final kill if it means saving her life. All you’ve done this entire week is ensure Max’s safety. You’ve put her life above yours again and again.

When Vecna almost killed her in the cemetery, Max heard you beg him to take you instead. It infuriated her.

There were you, ready to give up your life for hers without even considering how your death would affect everyone else. Max’s death would go unnoticed. She knows this and she’s accepted it.

But your death would fundamentally alter the earth’s makeup. You are the warmth that her and everyone else needs to survive. If you died because of Max, she knows everyone would blame her. It would be one more death that she caused. Your ghost would join Billy’s.

Max shakes her head at you. A small, subtle and curt shake. One meant for only you to see. You breathe in sharply. Her stony gaze sears into your skin. The message is clear: Max won’t let you die, either.

“Try Byers again.” Steve’s urgent voice prevents you from trying to argue with Max. He doesn’t see the interaction. He’s too lost in his own mind, mentally sifting through every possible solution he can come up with. Someone has to know something. “Try calling him again, Y/N.”

Steve is anxious and the crease between his brow deepens when he looks at you. He can’t let you die and you don’t have the heart to remind him that you’ve tried calling the Byers home repeatedly this week, just to be met with a busy signal.

Instead you sigh and walk over to the phone. Dialing the long memorized number, the line rings. And rings. And rings again. Until the beep of the busy tone alerts you that the line is full. “Damn it!”

You slam your fist against the wall, frustrated tears threatening to spill over. Dustin bites his lip at your reaction. “Guessing he didn’t respond.”

“Maybe she typed it in wrong…?” The death glare you send Steve quickly has him backtracking. “I-I mean it’s possible!”

“The Byers are like Y/N’s second family, dingus.” Robin flicks your boyfriend’s head for you, which you appreciate her for.

You try dialing the number again, but the same thing happens. It rings a few times before the busy signal drones on. Frustrated and worried, you slam the phone down. “No answer. Again. It’s been like this all fucking week.”

“Didn’t you say Joyce has that new telemarketer job? She’s always on the phone. Mike never stops whining about it.” Dustin tries to reason.

Max looks at him, skeptical. “A busy signal for three days?”

“I’ve never gone this long without hearing from them. They always answer…” fear pricks your skin. “Someone always calls me back. El, Will, Jonathan… something’s wrong.”

“She’s right. It can’t just be coincidence.” Nancy’s uncertainty mirrors your own. The two of you are the closest to the Byers. Their silence is unnerving.

“What are the odds that something is happening in Lenora?”

Nancy frowns at you. “Pretty high. And whatever is happening there, it has to be connected to all of this.”

“But how?”

Everything that has ever happened in Hawkins has remained in Hawkins. While you don’t understand how or why, the Upside Down is tied to this shitty town. It doesn’t make any sense for it to spill over into California, hundreds of miles away.

“I don’t know.” Nancy looks out Max’s window, her face hardening. “But at least Vecna can’t hurt them.”

You laugh bitterly. “I never thought I’d be so happy that they’re in California.”

Every day you miss the Byers like an open wound. You miss Jonathan and his slanted smile. Will and his tenderness. El and her sweet laugh. Joyce and her warm embrace. Their absence is palpable in your life, but for once you’re relieved that they’re gone.

They’re as far away from danger as they can possibly be. Vecna, as far as you know, can’t reach them from Hawkins. Though you may not know why they’ve gone radio silent, at the very least you know they’re alive.

“I’m not just talking about how far away they are.” Nancy turns to you. Color has returned to her face. Her eyes are bright again and she’s alive with an idea. “Vecna can’t hurt them if he’s dead.”

Nancy Wheeler has always been protective of the ones she loves. You both are; it’s what has tied the two of you together. The only difference is that Nancy sees red where you see cautionary yellow.

“We have to go back in there. Back to the Upside Down.”

You almost pass out from how quickly you stand. “Are you insane?”

Steve grabs your waist, steadying you, while Eddie rocks back and forth on the couch mumbling to himself. Robin lets out a scared squeak and you can practically see every possible way you can die in the Upside Down before your very eyes.

“We’re going to die,” you laugh hysterically, finally reaching your breaking point. “Nancy, we are going to die if we go back there.”

“Not if we’re prepared! This time we’ll get weapons and-and protection. We’ll go through the gate, find his lair, and we’ll kill him.”

“Oh, because it’ll be that easy, right? Look,” you break from Steve and grab Nancy’s arm, forcing her to look at you. “I’ve always gone along with your plans. But this? This is too far.”

Steve joins you, looking equally as overwhelmed and alarmed. “Y/N’s right. And, might I add, the only reason you survived is because he wanted you to. He’s not scared of us!”

Nancy falters for a moment. She knows Steve is right. Everyone knows that it wasn’t your music that brought her back. Vecna only allowed her to survive because he could.

“He let you live because somehow it’s all a part of his plan.” You urge, frustrated that Nancy can’t see what you see. “What if this is what he wants? He knows us, he’s been watching us. He knows you, Nancy. You could be falling right into his trap.”

“And it’s a fucking good trap!” Robin jumps to her feet, already starting to pace as she mumbles to herself. “We were wrong about Vecna. Henry? One? I’m sorry, what are we calling him now?”

Everyone gives her a different response, and you chime in with your own suggestion: “Bitch.”

“I like bitch, but it isn’t really PG, is it?” Robin cracks a smile before remembering where she is. She rambles on about how all you’ve managed to learn about Vecna is that he’s a sick, twisted version of El with deadly powers. “He could turn us inside out with a snap of his fingers. It’s not a fair fight.”

“Then why fight fair?” Dustin finally speaks up. He’s thought of something, too. “You’re right. He’s like Eleven, but that gives us an upper hand.”

Frustratingly, your brother has a point. Ducking your head, you voice what he’s thinking. “Which means we know her strengths and weaknesses.”

“Exactly.”

“Weaknesses?” Erica looks at you and Dustin as if you’re insane.

Dustin explains how El’s powers work. When he mentions the trance she always seems to fall under when she remote-travels, Lucas snaps his fingers. “That would explain what Vecna was doing in that attic.”

“And when he attacks his next victim–”

“His body will be defenseless…” you breathe out, hope igniting in your chest despite your attempts to snuff it out.

Steve scoffs at you. “Defenseless? What about the army of bats?” He motions towards his bruised neck before pointing down at your thigh. “I mean, I love you, but I think you’re missing most of your thigh.”

“Only a quarter is gone.”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, maybe a little more.”

Dustin waves his hands at you and Steve. “Alright, we get it. The bats were a bitch, but all we need to do is find a way to distract them.”

“And, uh.” Eddie begins to rise from the couch. “How do we do that, exactly?”

“No idea.”

Eddie sits back down. You smile at him, tight lipped. He should’ve expected an answer like that, honestly.

Dustin doubles down on his plan. “It’ll be like slaying sleeping Dracula in his coffin.”

But there are components to his plan that the group still needs to figure out. “We’d need someone to lure him, get him into the trance in the first place.”

Robin nods eagerly at you. “My thoughts exactly, and we don’t even know who he’s going to attack next–”

“Yeah, we do.”

Your heart stops.

Everyone turns to Max. She only meets your gaze. Her jaw is set, the same hardened look in her eyes from when she shook her head at you returns.

Knowing where this is going, you stand in front of Max and block her from the others. “No.”

“I can still feel him–”

“No.” You can’t believe Max is even entertaining the idea of you letting her be the bait. As if you’d ever put her in that kind of danger. Like you wouldn’t die a million times if it meant she got to live once. “You know I won’t let you.”

Max glares back at you. “I’m still marked.”

“So am I.” A bitter laugh. “We’re both cursed. You and me. We’re one in the same, but I’m not letting you be the bait.”

“What, so I’m just expected to let you sacrifice yourself?” Max laughs incredulously. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over well. Max Mayfield, the one who killed Hawkins’ sweetheart, responsible for yet another death!”

You try to reach out to her, but Max stumbles back. “No one is dying, alright? And you wouldn’t be responsible for my death. I’m choosing to do this. You’re-you’re just a kid, Max. It’s my job to protect you–”

“I never asked you to protect me!” Max screams, startling you into silence. The volume of her voice seems to surprise her as well because she takes a step back, breathing heavily. “I never… I never asked for any of this.”

Silence swallows the room. Max looks at you, her eyes pleading. Her words swim in your head. What did she mean by being responsible for another death? That she would be blamed for yours?

“You didn’t ask me to protect you,” your voice shakes slightly. Holding her gaze, you allow your tears to fall. “But I never asked to lose you, either.”

Max breathes in sharply. Your words cut through her guard, breaking down the last of her walls. She’s silent again.

“Neither one of you are going.” Steve is next to you now, hand falling against your back. He looks between you and Max, voice gentle, but firm.

“What if we… leveled the playing field?” Dustin hesitantly suggests. Lucas and Steve frown at him, shocked he’s even considering any of this seeing how protective he is of you. Dustin sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “Look, they’ve both had visions. They’re both next. And whether we like it or not, Vecna has only doubled his chances of winning.”

Eddie stares at him in disbelief. “What, so we just have them both be the bait? Toss ‘em both to Vecna and see which one he bites?”

“I’d word it better, but…” Dustin bites his lip, staring at you. “Yeah.”

Behind you, Steve tries to shove past the others to get to you. Only Lucas stops him, shaking his head at the older teen. Now isn’t the time, Lucas knows that Steve will say something he'll regret.

Steve wants to scream. He doesn’t at all like what he’s hearing, but when he looks at you and notices the interest in your eyes, he feels his heart drop. You’re really considering this. You’re really willing to put yourself in danger to save Hawkins.

Because it’s what you do. It’s what you’ve always done. You’re too good for this world. Steve can’t let you get hurt, not like this.

Tentatively you look at Max. “If one of us is in the Upside Down…”

“And the other in the attic in Hawkins.” Max continues for you, relieved you seem to understand. “He’s guaranteed to find one of us. And whoever he chooses, we just… we just need to keep him busy long enough so that the others can get into the attic.”

A game of luck disguised as a compromise. Even though luck has never been on your side, Max won’t back down from this, and neither will you.

However this story ends, you hope that it’s your body that is buried. Max, thinking the same thing, smiles pitifully at you. Reaching a stalemate, all you can do now is smile back at her.

“Do me a favor,” you turn to the rest of the group. “When you stab him, blow him up with whatever explosives Dustin inevitably comes up with, however you end up killing this piece of shit… Try not to miss.”

“For both of us.” Max says.

Steve’s hand presses harshly against your back. He’s biting his tongue. You can feel all the unsaid resentment and protests that die in his throat. Exhaustion darkens his eyes and you want, more than anything, to promise him that everything will be okay.

But you can’t.

Not this time.

–

Eddie slams down a massive flier onto the table. With big, bold letters and an abundance of American flags in the background, the flier is your worst nightmare.

“‘The War Zone?’” You look at Eddie uncertainly. “Not a very welcoming store name.”

“That’s because it’s not a very welcoming store, princess.” He winks at you. “But I’ve been there before, and it’s huge. They’ve got everything you need for, uh…”

“War?”

“I was gonna say killing things, but war works, too.”

Robin pokes your side, gently moving you aside so that she can look over Eddie’s shoulder. “Think fake Rambo has enough guns there?”

“Well there’s a grenade sale going on, so.” You shrug at her. “I’m willing to bet they’ve got enough guns. And an aversion to laws.”

Robin still looks unsure, but Eddie quickly explains that the War Zone is far enough away from Hawkins that no one will recognize any of you there. With a wanted murderer and multiple accomplices in your group, anonymity is your only option.

“But if we’re trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn’t go to some store called the War Zone.” Erica points out, which you snort at.

“She’s not wrong.”

Nancy sighs. “Normally I’d agree, but we need the weapons. I think it’s worth the risk.”

Lucas agrees, but Dustin reminds everyone that you currently have no way to get there. Steve’s car is gone and all you have are bikes and prayers.

Eddie smiles wickedly at your brother. “Who said anything about bikes?”

“What, you got some car we don’t know about?” Steve asks him.

“It’s not exactly a car, Steve. And it’s not exactly mine, but… it’ll do.”

You step in between Steve and Eddie. “What do you mean it’s not exactly yours?”

He ignores your question and looks at Max. “Hey, Red, you got a ski mask, or a bandanna, something like that?”

“Why the fuck do you need a ski mask–” You hit at Eddie’s chest, worry growing more and more by the second.

Eddie catches your hand that swings down at him, a devious smile. “Have you ever stolen a RV, Y/N?”

“No. No fucking way.” You’ve never hated an idea more. “That’s someone’s home. And-and it’s a crime. A huge one at that, like insanely huge and very, very illegal–”

Dustin pats your back, laughing to himself. “C’mon. Lighten up a bit. Do it for science, for the world!”

“What does science have to do with any of this? We’re talking about literally robbing someone’s entire livelihood to go kill some wrinkly old guy and there’s no way in hell that I am ever agreeing to stealing a RV–”

You end up stealing a fucking RV.

Eddie is wearing a ridiculous ski mask that Max once wore for Halloween as he guides you through the trailer park. Weaving in and out of mobile homes, Eddie finds his target and throws himself through the window.

Steve jumps in next, leaning out the side so that he can then help you climb through. The window is just tall enough to be painful to squeeze into, and you let out several choice words as Steve pulls you up.

“You alright?” He asks you once you’re in.

“I hate everything about this.”

“Henderson, you got anything sharp?” Eddie whispers from the driver’s seat. He’s holding a bunch of wires that all look the same to you.

Digging into your pocket, you toss him your knives. “If anyone asks, you stole them from me.”

Eddie smirks at you, flicking the knives open and cutting random wires. He works quickly, with practiced ease, and Steve notices, too. “Where’d you learn how to do this?”

Eddie’s fingers tie wires together and he laughs sarcastically. He explains that his father was the one who taught him, bitter and relentless. “I swore to myself I’d never wind up like he did, but now I’m wanted for murder, and soon, grand theft auto. So, uh. I’m really livin’ up to the Munson name.”

“Aren’t fathers lovely?” You force a laugh, but you can still feel the heavy weight of your father’s hands around you. The vision, how real he had seemed. Eddie gives you an odd, slightly concerned look, before Robin suddenly appears.

“Eddie, I’m not sure I love the idea of you driving this thing.”

You bite your lip. “Honestly, I also don’t like the idea.”

“Oh, I’m just starting this sucker. Harrington’s got her.” Eddie leans in close to Steve, almost flirting with him. “Don’t ya, big boy?”

Steve’s off-put expression, the pure joy in Eddie’s eyes and Robin’s utter confusion, it all makes you laugh hysterically. This entire situation is so fucking bizarre. Here you are, hotwiring a RV with Eddie goddamn Munson while he flirts with your boyfriend.

The engine sparks to life, cutting your laughter short, and within seconds the married couple who owns the RV is pounding on the windows. Cover blown, Steve curses and shoves Eddie out of the way so that he can throw you against the passenger seat.

“Get ready!” Steve shouts after making sure you’re secured before jumping into the driver’s seat.

Heart pounding, you quickly shout over your shoulder to the kids. “Everyone, hang on!”

Dustin scrambles onto the back window and holds on for dear life. “Drive, Steve!”

Throwing his foot on the gas, the RV pulls out of the trailer park with impressive speed. For being more home than mobile, you have to tightly clutch the sides of your seat in fear of flying forward.

“Shit, they look pissed.” Dustin watches the couple run after the RV, but it’s a lost cause.

“I mean, it’s not every day you lose your house and your car in one fell swoop.” Robin says, body jolting due to the rough terrain.

Steve screams, telling everyone to hold on, before he barrels through a pile of garbage. The RV takes a rough turn, tilting slightly, before finally finding the road. The tires squeal, but Steve manages to steady the vehicle and grace you with smoother driving.

“We’re felons.” Your eyes are squeezed shut as you rub your stomach, nauseous. “I can’t believe we just stole that poor couple’s home.”

“Think Spidey would understand?” Steve spares you a glance as he drives.

“Don’t ever evoke his name while committing a felony.”

–

For the first few miles, all you could focus on was the squeezing knot of guilt in your chest as the adrenaline crashed. Every car you passed set you on edge. Every passing second you were terrified you’d encounter cops and get pulled over, sent to jail.

However, after about fifteen miles, you finally settle into the drive. Despite all you’ve been through, it’s still a beautiful time of year. The spring trees are green and soft music plays on the radio. Everyone is quiet, looking out the windows or talking amongst themselves.

Steve looks at ease driving the RV, the dewy sun framing his beautiful face. This is the calmest you’ve seen him all week. Feet propped up on the dashboard, you poke his arm. “You look real comfortable driving this thing.”

He smiles softly, shrugging. “It’s not half bad, considering this is a house.”

You giggle, smiling along with him. A comfortable silence follows and the music floats around you. The guitar strings are sweet, melancholy, and they make you miss your father. “My dad used to play this song on his guitar.”

“He did?” Steve seems surprised you’ve brought your father up, and you don’t blame him. It isn’t often that you talk about him.

“Yeah,” you’re not sure why you’re telling Steve this. Not now, at least. Driving a stolen RV to a war store for supplies. “He’d play it around bonfires. Everyone loved it. It was… it was nice.”

“Did he… play any other songs?” Steve doesn’t want to push you. He’s honestly just grateful you’ve shared even this small snippet of your life with him, but Steve will always want to know more about you.

You pause for a moment. You’re not used to talking about this with anyone else. Only Dustin and Jonathan. “The Beatles. He really loved the Beatles.”

“Sounds like your dad had good taste in music, then.”

“Yeah,” smiling to yourself, you allow this one good memory of your father to linger. “He really did.”

After a beat of silence, Steve clears his throat. He doesn’t want this softness to end. “Thank you for telling me, angel.”

You shrug, cheeks burning. You’re uncomfortable with the sincerity. You know Steve is being genuine, but the foreignness of revealing yourself is still unsettling.

Not wanting to lose this vulnerability yet, Steve risks looking at you. “Dustin told me about him, you know. Your dad, I mean. He told me what he did. And I-I’m really sorry, Y/N. I am. Your family didn’t deserve that.”

You’re quiet.

“I understand, now.” Steve doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. Not again, not like he always seems to do. “I-I had this dream, you know, that I’d have this really big family. I’m talking, like, a full brood of Harringtons. Like, five or six kids.”

Even though you laugh a bit, his confession stings. You know exactly why Steve has always envisioned a big family for himself. His home was never really a home. His family was never really a family.

You’ve only ever met Richard Harrington once, and you will always remember how cold his eyes were.

“And what would you do with these six kids of yours?” You entertain Steve’s dream because you love him. Because you know that no one else will.

Steve blushes slightly, although relieved that you’re at least responding to him again. “I figured every summer, all of us Harringtons would pack into something like this and just see the country. You know, the Rockies, Grand Canyon… maybe even the Shenandoah valley in Virginia.”

It’s your turn to blush. Steve wants to take his kids to where you grew up. “That sounds really nice, honey.”

Steve looks at you hopefully, adoration in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you know your eyes reveal your fondness for him, too. “Although six kids might be too much. I think three is all I’d agree to.”

Steve catches your slip before you do. He watches, bashful and giddy, as you realize what you’ve said. How you unconsciously told him your kids would be his kids. While you blush furiously at the implications, Steve’s heart flutters.

So you do see a future with him. A family.

Seeing Steve’s bashful smile, all your embarrassment fades away. He loves you, pure and unabashedly. All he wants is his future to have you, and you finally understand that you have a safe place to land. Steve will always be there to catch you.

“You’ll be a good dad, honey.” He isn’t like your father. Steve doesn’t know how to abandon someone. It isn’t in his blood.

Steve ducks his head, smiling even wider. He thanks you softly, eyes flicking between you and the road. The strings that were twisted between you straighten. The knots come undone. Smiling at him again, you feel someone’s eyes on you.

When you turn around, you find Nancy quickly looking away. She pretends that she hadn’t been watching you and Steve, though she does a terrible job at it. Sighing, you kiss Steve’s forehead.

“I’ll be back.”

He tries to ask you where you’re going, but you’re out of your seat before he can finish his question.

You sit next to Nancy, shoulder bumping against hers as you do so. She doesn’t look up at you, too busy pretending to be engrossed in Eddie’s War Zone flier. Her eyebrows are knit together and you know she’s anxious about it all.

Gently nudging her, you prompt Nancy to look at you. When she reluctantly does, you ask the question that’s been burning your tongue all morning. “How much of my vision did you see?”

“I-I’m so sorry.” Nancy breaks immediately. Unable to look at you, she turns her head and closes her eyes. “He… he showed me Steve. He made me listen to your cries as he and I–” Her voice cracks, nausea builds. “I heard what he told you.”

Your face burn in embarrassment. While you appreciate her honesty, you hate that Nancy saw you in your most vulnerable state. You hate that she had to see that your deepest, innermost insecurity is her.

“It was real, wasn’t it?” Nancy hesitantly asks. Her lips are chapped and her voice is rough from disuse and uncertainty. “You really do think that Steve will never forget me.”

She knows she shouldn’t be asking you any of this. She knows that too much was shown to her, more than you’ve ever shown to anyone. Nancy doesn’t know what she would do if she were you. To have your deepest fears shown to someone without consent. Without any warning.

You roll Nancy’s question around in your head. You aren’t surprised that she’s asked it; she’s never shied away from the questions that keep everyone else up at night. Absentmindedly your eyes roam Steve’s body. His shoulders are relaxed as he drives. He knows you’ll return to him when you’re done.

It is a certainty for him, one only love can provide.

“I know he loves me.” You say slowly, carefully. Looking up at Steve again, your eyes soften slightly. “But I think sometimes I get scared of the hold you have over him.”

Nancy starts to laugh, loud and without any humor. Your eyes widen at her, hurt blooming within your chest. “What’s so funny, Wheeler?”

“Nothing!” She grabs your hand, laughter dying quickly. “God, I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s just-it’s ironic, isn’t it? I mean, I have the same fear with you and Jonathan. The hold you seem to have over him.”

Your thumb strokes the back of her hand. In a way, you suppose it all really is ironic.

Risking it all, your head drops down to Nancy’s shoulder. She allows you to rest it there as you both stare out the window in front of you. “We were their first loves.” Watching the trees pass by, it’s all so very bittersweet. “Do you ever think about that?”

You were Jonathan’s first love. Nancy was Steve’s.

Nancy hums softly, recognizing the irony as well. The two of you have always felt lesser than the other, yet the boys you love are so blindly devoted to you. Nancy remembers last summer and her cruel words of insecurity.

“I’m sorry we wasted so much time.” Nancy whispers, and you don’t need to ask her what she means. You know she’s referring to the July phone call.

“Lost time can always be made up.”

Nancy squeezes your hand. The two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, mending the fragments that were shattered a while ago. The mending isn’t perfect. Some pieces have been lost forever, but the image it creates is the same; it’s still love.

“I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but I’ve never seen Steve so in love.”

You pick your head up and smile at her, appreciative of the sentiment. “Jonathan is the same, you know. He loves you so much, Nancy. Even if he struggles to show it.”

Nancy doesn’t believe you. You can see it in the way her eyes suddenly darken. The wrinkle in her forehead. She doesn’t believe that Jonathan loves her anymore, and the thought makes you ache.

“I know he’s been distant lately. He’s been distant with me, too.” The admission is difficult only because you don’t want Nancy to think you’re being cruel. She deserves to know everything. “He’s lonely in California. He misses you more than I think he’s even able to process.”

Slowly, Nancy nods at you to continue; you haven’t scared her away yet. “Jonathan will never admit when he’s hurting, it’s infuriating and admirable all at the same time. But he… he gets lost, sometimes. Jonathan loves you so much that he’s afraid he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t understand that sometimes love is selfish.”

Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?

But you ‘n me? ‘S easy. Always so easy.

Jonathan hadn’t been confessing his feelings for you. It’s only now that you realize this. He’d just been scared, weak. Weak from hiding his fears, his uncertainty for his future and the weight of his family on his shoulders.

All his life Jonathan has only ever known instability. He was never able to adjust to Nancy’s foundations. It was only when he was finally starting to trust the stability that their fighting began, and Jonathan hid. It was instinctive.

“Jonathan, he called me the other night.” You say, causing Nancy to stiffen slightly. You squeeze her hand again, silently urging her to listen before she says anything else. “It was before the world was ending, obviously, and he… he asked me if I ever thought we made a mistake. Me and him.”

“A mistake?” Nancy shakes her head.

“Steve and I had a fight earlier that day, and you and Jonathan were having problems, so he just… he was afraid that if we made a mistake choosing you and Steve, then it would mean we made things harder for you, too.”

The wrinkle in Nancy’s forehead lessens, but only by a fragment. She’s listening, she’s trying to follow along, but she’s been so hurt for so long that it’s difficult for her to distinguish fact from fiction.

“Loving you has always been easy for him to do, so he got scared when the ease fell away.” Your eyes never leave Nancy’s. “Jonathan didn’t understand that love can be just as hard as it is soft. You can’t have one without the other.”

Nancy is quiet for several long moments. She sits with your words, allows herself to think through them. To trust where they came from and know that they’re meant to help, not hurt. Eventually, Nancy exhales after months of holding her breath.

“‘Love can be just as hard as it is soft’.” Nancy laughs, short but genuine. “I like that.”

A laugh echoes from your own chest. “Thanks, Wheeler. Came up with it myself.”

“It’s me who should be thanking you.” She ducks her head, suddenly shy. “Thank you. For everything.”

You squeeze her hand one last time. Recognizing her thanks as a polite dismissal, wanting to be alone right now, you kiss the back of her hand before rejoining Steve up front.

Steve catches your hand before you can sit in the passenger seat. He kisses it, the same as you did with Nancy’s. “What did you two talk about?”

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, you catch Nancy’s eye in the rearview mirror. She winks, secretive and teasing, and you wink back at her. Sitting down, you prop your feet back up on the dashboard.

“We were just catching up.”

–

By the time Steve pulls into War Zone’s parking lot, it’s packed with cars. There are way more people than expected, concerned families running around with guns they don’t know how to use.

“I guess a grenade sale draws in a big crowd.” You whistle low, eyes following a dad and daughter bickering over a baseball bat.

Steve parks the RV and turns around in his seat. “Alright, dipshits. What’s the plan?” Robin rolls her eyes. “Don’t call us dipshits, dipshit.”

“Obviously Eddie stays in the RV. He’s Indiana’s most wanted at this point.” Eddie tips an imaginary hat at you. “Dustin and Lucas, you guys should stay, too.”

Your brother makes a disgruntled sound. “What do you mean I’m staying?”

“You’re both in Hellfire and a lot of people with guns want the club gone. I’m not letting either of you step foot in there.”

Lucas sags in his seat, but he doesn’t argue. He knows you’re right. Dustin, however, continues to argue. “Did you forget that I almost watched you die ten hours ago? I’m not leaving you.”

Annoyance softening, you tug at Dustin’s hat playfully. “Don’t worry about me. We grew up with hicks, I know how to fend them off.”

“Plus we’ll be glued to her side, little Henderson.” Robin points at Steve, who nods quickly. “We got her.”

It takes some more arguing and a bribe from Eddie before Dustin eventually calms down. You leave him with Lucas, trusting they’ll be fine on their own. Steve holds his hand out and helps you walk down the RV’s steps and into the store.

Inside, a swarm of people are running around. The entire point of driving all the way to the War Zone was to avoid Hawkins, and yet here everyone is: stocking up on pistols and mace.

“Let’s… be fast.” Nancy eyes everyone wearily, and none of you hesitate to agree.

Splitting up, you, Steve, and Robin head towards the gasoline section. You’d suggested it during the drive here. Fire has always been the most reliable weapon against the Upside Down.

Eyes scanning the gasoline aisle, you make a mental list of what else you may need. “Okay, I think we should get at least six of these–”

Steve must see something in another aisle, because he whips around and screams behind his shoulder, “Be right back!”

Robin frowns. “He has the attention span of a dog.”

“Don’t say that,” you toss another can of gasoline into your cart. “It’s offensive to dogs.”

Giggling, Robin helps you. Loading the cart to the brim, you almost miss Steve’s sudden return. “What do you think, angel?”

Looking up, you almost drop the can you’re holding. In the midst of weapons and ammo within the store, Steve has somehow managed to find a nice, brown army jacket. The material is thick, covered in patches, and the brown looks criminally good on your boyfriend. While you’ll miss his arms being on constant display, you almost don’t want him to ever take the jacket off again.

Seeing your speechless reaction, Steve smirks at you. “I take it you approve?”

“Mhm,” your mouth is dry.

“Good, because I also found this.” Steve reveals another brown army jacket behind him, only this one is smaller. More your size. Not even waiting for your approval, Steve drapes the material over your shoulders. “And now we match.”

“You’re disgusting,” you grumble, though you both know your heart isn’t in it. The apples of your cheeks burn a cherry red. Taking Robin’s flannel off, you return it to her. “A part of me thinks Steve wants me to wear the army jacket because he doesn’t like seeing me in your clothes.”

Steve shrugs. “Half true.”

“Has anyone ever told you how gross you two are?” Robin gags. “I mean, really, it’s sickening how annoying you…”

Her voice trails off. Mid insult. Something she has never done before in the two years you’ve known her. Confused, you look up and notice her lovestruck expression as she stares at something. Following her line of sight, you almost laugh when you find the familiar red curls standing across from you.

“What are you gonna do? Stand and gawk?” Steve teases Robin, amused by the series of events.

You elbow his side. “Be nice. All you did was gawk at me for months.”

“Both of you, shut up.” Robin commands, voice breathy. Her eyes never leave Vickie and she takes a step forward, finally having the courage to approach her, before some guy comes up behind Vickie and scares her.

Vickie yelps, turning around to tell the boy off, but instead he takes her into his arms. The guy is tall, lanky but sure. He stares down at Vickie like she’s some prize and your stomach twists into knots.

When their lips connect, you can almost feel Robin’s heartbreak. Her face drops and the light in her eyes is extinguished. Vickie turns, face paling when she sees Robin, and the entire ordeal is too much for her to handle.

Robin’s shoulder knocks roughly against yours as she flees. You call after her, wanting desperately to follow. You know how cruel unrequited love can be. “Robin, wait!”

But Steve stops you, gently pulling you back. “Give her some space.”

As much as you want to argue, snatch your arm back and run after your heartbroken friend, you know that Steve is right. Robin has always preferred seclusion to public displays. She’s never wanted anyone’s pity. When she’s ready, she’ll find you and Steve and you’ll give her all the sun’s rays to melt the ice of rejection.

Steve helps you look for whatever else you’ll need. You roam the aisles, both silent and worried for your friend. At one point you end up in the knives section. When you turn your head to ask Steve his opinion on a silver hilt you find, the question dies in your throat.

Nancy is across the store, holding a rifle while Jason Carver stalks closer and closer to her.

“He’s like a goddamn plague,” you sneer to yourself. Quickly catching Steve’s attention, you motion over to the two teens. “We got a problem.”

Steve curses, also exasperated seeing Jason, but when he tries to walk towards them you stop him. Shaking your head, you block his path. “I love you, but if you go over there right now you’ll make everything worse.”

“That’s not true!”

“Steve.”

He falters. “Okay, well. What do you want me to do?”

“Go find Erica and the others and tell them we’re leaving. Clearly we’ve overstayed our welcome here.” Smoothing down your new leather jacket, you fix your hair and adjust your shoes. “As for me, I’m really hoping Jason still has that crush on me from last summer.”

Steve gawks at you, but you shove him towards the exit and beckon him to do as you say. Jason has only gotten closer to Nancy during your conversation. He leers over her, gripping the rifle with possession.

Trying to keep your steps slow, casual, you analyze their body movements as you approach. Jason smirks at Nancy, as if he knows all her secrets. “Well, you look nervous.”

Nancy swallows. “Like I said. Scary times.”

Jason doesn’t like her answer. “Now, your brother. Is he here with you, by chance?”

Hearing him mention Mike, your heartbeat races as you practically sprint towards Nancy. Your appearance is abrupt, you’re breathless from exhilaration, and when your body slams against Jason’s, you feign sympathy. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Body turned towards Nancy, you nod at her once, reassuring, before forcing a smile on your face and spinning back around to Jason. “Long time no see, Carver.”

“Y/N.” He doesn’t return your smile.

Tension thick, you pretend not to notice it. “Sorry for interrupting, but I found the bat Nancy was looking for earlier and was dying to show her.” Tilting your head at her, you indicate towards the exit with your eyes. “Wanna check it out?”

She nods, understanding the hidden meaning behind your words. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Not so fast.” Jason still hasn’t let go of Nancy’s barrel. He tugs it back, forcing you and her to freeze. “I asked Wheeler here a question. Have you seen Mike?”

“No.” Nancy doesn’t flinch away. “He isn’t here.”

Jason then looks at you. There is no warmth in his gaze. “And your brother, he’s in that Hellfire club too, isn’t he? Have you seen him around?”

“I’m not my brother’s keeper.” You keep your voice cold, neutral. Jason is trying to get a reaction from you. He wants you to be scared of him. But you’ve dealt with worse men than him. Wrapping your hand around his arm, you dig your nails into his flesh. “You understand, right?”

Jason’s mouth twitches. His composure is quickly slipping and Nancy uses the slip against him, Tightening her grip on the gun, she pulls it against her chest. “Let go.”

His hand remains. They maintain eye contact, neither looking away. Your nails dig even deeper, the skin beneath them breaks. Hot blood seeps into your nailbeds and Jason finally lets go.

He rubs the crescent indents in his skin, chuckling darkly at you. “Quite a grip you got there.”

“I tend not to let things go.” A sickly sweet smile crawls onto your face.

Jason smiles back at you, holding your gaze for another few seconds, before finally walking away. He doesn’t say anything else. The moment he’s gone, you lace your fingers through Nancy’s and run through the store to find Steve and the others.

“That was close.” You duck behind a cart, nearly running into one of Jason’s goonies.

“Too close.” Nancy finds Robin, pointing towards her as she looks for an opening to run. “Think you’ll be able to run?”

“Not really much of a choice, is there?”

And you run. Weaving through what feels like the entirety of Hawkins, you and Nancy manage to break through the store’s exit with Steve, Robin, Max, and Erica in tow. Bursting through the RV’s door, it’s a mess of bodies flailing into seats and screams.

“We need to leave. Now!” You shout at Dustin and the others, having no other time to explain further. “Everyone find a seat and stay low.”

Dustin screeches at Steve to drive while everyone scrambles to do as you’ve said. Hands shaking as you buckle your seatbelt, Steve only has enough time to shout “get ready!” before he’s starting the engine.

The War Zone sign fades into the distance.

–

The further you drive, the thicker the air in the RV becomes. Unease creeps over the seats, onto your skin. Nancy sits with all the bags around her as she and Robin sort through them. Dustin watches them, knee bouncing up and down.

Nancy talks first. Slowly, piece by piece, her and Dustin come up with a plan.

“We’ll need to split into groups.”

“But how many? And where would everyone go?”

Nancy pauses for a moment. “One group in the Upside Down and one group at the Creel house. That should be enough, right?”

You raise your hand as if you’re in school. “If I may, I’d like to remind the class about the bats. We aren’t getting anywhere if they’re eating us alive.”

“She’s got a point.” Dustin says.

Nancy sighs, but she doesn’t have an answer.

“What if we had another group in dimension hell?” Eddie suggests. “Ya know, distract the little fuckers while the main group goes and be heroes.”

“I don’t know,” you shift in your seat. You’re already risking a lot having a few of you go back into the Upside Down. The thought of risking even more lives makes your skin crawl. “Ideally, the less of us in the Upside Down, the better.”

Steve nods. “I’m with Y/N on this one. We don’t all need to go down there. It’s creepy and freakishly cold.”

“It’s our only option. Whoever goes there to kill Vecna will need all the help they can get.” Max says. “If the bats get to them first, then it’s pointless.”

Lucas nods, agreeing with Max, and Dustin has to nod as well. She’s right. There needs to be a third group if there’s any hope of pulling this off.

Nancy, seeing the growing agreement between everyone, nods. “Alright. Then it’s settled. There’ll be three groups. Me, Y/N, Steve, and Robin will go to the Upside Down and track down Vecna.”

She waits a moment, giving time for anyone to protest. When no one does, she continues. “Y/N will have her walkman, but she won’t use it unless absolutely necessary. If Vecna chooses her, Steve will watch her while Robin and I go into the attic.”

“I’ll be the best goddamn bodyguard there ever was.” Steve jokes, trying to laugh away the discomfort of knowing your life will be on the line of luck. Knowing what he’s doing, you kiss his hand softly.

“If you fuck up and get my sister killed, I know how to procure acid.” Dustin forces Steve to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. The older teen gulps.

Touched, you preen at Dustin. “That’s the nicest threat anyone has ever said for me.”

It gets him to laugh, which you’re thankful for. Nancy cracks a smile as well, but it dims when she remembers where she is. Where you all are.

“Max, Erica, and Lucas will be at the Creel house. They’ll have her walkman as well. If Vecna chooses her, Lucas needs to be ready.”

The teen slowly nods at Nancy. He hunches his shoulders, places the weight of Max’s life upon him. You’re not entirely comfortable with leaving the kids alone at the house, but it’s the safest location. You’d rather they be in Hawkins than the Upside Down.

You’ll give Max your knives. You’ll show her how to use them and you’ll pray that she never has to. They’ll be fine.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. The mantra that is keeping you sane.

“Eddie, would you be alright with distracting the bats?” Nancy turns to him, the question posed more as a silent challenge. It was his suggestion; now he has to be willing to lay his life down for it.

Eddie pales at the question. “I-I mean I guess? Like, would I be-I don’t know, screaming at them? Or-or running around like an idiot, or–”

“I’ll go with him.” Dustin interrupts, saving Eddie from a nervous breakdown.

Your head spins around the second you hear his voice, cold with fear. “No–”

But Dustin expected this reaction. He meets your fear with a leveled response. “Y/N, this is the only way.”

“I won’t let you go into the Upside Down!” Screaming, voice raw, panic sets in. This is all wrong. Everything is wrong. You could die tonight, Max and Lucas and Erica will be defenseless in a house that you can’t reach, and now your brother wants to go to the place that almost killed you?

It’s too much.

“And I won’t leave Eddie behind!” Dustin screams back at you. “He needs me, and if it means the bats won’t try to kill you again, then I’m doing it.”

“But–”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Y/N. We kinda need them.” Robin tries to placate you, but you’re seeing red and you can’t breathe.

Eddie manages to catch your eye. He lowers his voice, the most sincere he’s ever been. “I promise I’ll protect Dustin with my life. Alright? I won’t let the shithead die.”

Only it’s the wrong thing to say. Your ears are ringing and your chest feels like it’s about to explode. Anger and fear and despair all claw at your throat, begging to be released.

“Do you really think I can’t protect my own brother?” You hiss at Eddie, teeth clenched and face burning. The words tumble from your mouth before you can even really stop them. You’re blinded by anger, by the overwhelming feeling that you’ll lose.

You can’t protect everyone on your own. Not this time, not like you’ve always done. Your entire life you’ve given everything within you to protect the ones you love. Pieces of yourself have been broken, bruised, exhausted from it; but it’s all you know.

You’ve never been good at asking for help. Never trusted anyone enough to love and care for your family with the ferocity that you do.

But now, faced with something much bigger than yourself, your greatest fear has come true. You have to let go. You have to trust that someone else will be there for your loved ones when you can’t. There’s nothing else you can do.

And it’s fucking terrifying.

Eddie clears his throat in response to your sudden outburst. The RV falls silent. Eyes stare at you and you turn away in shame, facing the windshield with tears in your eyes. Steve can’t keep his eyes on the road knowing you’re upset.

Eventually there’s a field and Nancy tells Steve to park. With nowhere else to go, the open field will be your basecamp. There are weapons to be made, final moments to be shared.

No one wastes any time getting out. The RV empties quickly until it’s only you, Dustin, and Steve who remain. Your brother clears his throat awkwardly, standing before you with his arms tucked behind him.

“Code blue?”

Strings twinge in your chest, but laughter floods anyways. “Yeah,” you wipe your eyes, already crying. “I think we’re due for one.”

You get up from the passenger seat, giving Steve a quick but reassuring glance. He understands without having to be told that you need to be alone with your brother. Giving you some privacy, he turns away while you and Dustin head towards the back.

Sitting down, Dustin immediately falls against you. You butt heads, playfully and childishly, and you want to cherish these small moments with your brother forever.

“Please don’t be like dad.” Dustin whispers, so quiet you almost don’t hear him.

Your throat closes. “Dustin…”

“You can’t leave me. Not like he did. You can’t-you can’t do that to me and mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

The mention of your mother makes you cry as well. You miss her, you haven’t seen her in days and all you want is to have her hold you one last time. To hear her call you her sweet girl again. To etch her love for you into your skin.

“I won’t leave you,” your fingers grip Dustin’s arms. Your body shakes, so does his. “I-I won’t. I love you, okay? More than anything in this world. I’m your sister, and I know I haven’t been a very good one recently and I know that I can’t promise that everything will be okay, but–”

“All I want from you is for you to come home.” Dustin rasps. His eyes shine and he sniffs, shaking his head fondly, albeit annoyed. “God, that’s all you have to do. Don’t be like him, don’t leave the house empty. That’s all I want from you, Y/N.”

Brushing his hair back, the promise you make doesn’t burn how you expect it to. “I’ll come home.”

“Good.” Dustin throws himself into you, arms gripping you tightly. His hair tickles your nose and his hat almost pokes your eye out, but you hold onto him anyways.

“Yo, Henderson!” Eddie’s voice calls from outside. There’s a bang on the RV door, followed by a quiet curse for presumably injuring a hand. “Come help me with these trash lids. The nails are bitches!”

“Trash lids?” You ask Dustin.

He shrugs. “Weapon against the bats. Could be worse.”

You snort, pushing the kid away. “Go help Munson. With his luck, he’ll lose an eye wielding a hammer.”

Dustin also laughs and allows your body to leave. He stands up, lingers in the doorway, before smiling one last time at you. Your promise to him melts into his skin. He’s chosen to believe you; you have to choose to believe yourself as well.

When he’s gone, the silence in the RV almost drowns you. There’s a dull roar in your head. Conversations echo. Nancy’s confessions and Dustin’s terror. Max’s sacrifice. How long it’s been since you’ve been alone.

Your head drops to your hands. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to salvage what little of your sanity is left.

A body lands next to you. The smell of bergamot and spice is like a salve to your open wounds. Hands grab your body, pull you flush against a chest. Without having to look, you know Steve is the one holding you.

He lays you down onto the couch and you curl into him instinctively. You use his body to shield you away from the world, feeling like a little kid again. Your bones ache. Steve rubs your flesh as if to dispel the pain that is always there.

“I know you want to be alone right now,” his chest vibrates against your cheek as he speaks. “But can I just say that I hate this plan?”

His honesty is refreshing, candid and desperately needed. It causes the corners of your mouth to tug upwards, ever so slightly. The ache lessens, the echoes aren’t as deafening.

Pressing your nose against the base of Steve’s neck, you allow yourself to be weak in this moment. To be soft, vulnerable, trusting that he’ll catch you. “I don’t want to die.”

Steve kisses your forehead, lips warming the cold skin underneath. “I know.” His finger strokes your cheek. He memorizes the lines and dots that litter your face. Old scars, new ones that will never really go away. “It’s a good thing I won’t let you.”

You smile again. No one can promise anything anymore. Yesterday you almost died, today you will use your life as bait, and tomorrow you might never see. Nothing is promised. Not anymore.

Yet you believe Steve.

“What did you see in your vision?”

The question is whispered and velvety. You haven’t talked about last night, but Steve knows whatever you saw is weighing on you. He can see the way you carry it on your shoulders, tired and aching. He noticed the tension between you and Nancy, the unyielding fear of letting your brother go.

Your eyes meet. The brown honey in Steve’s eyes reminds you that he’s real. Here, in his arms, you’re safe. You could confess all your sins to him and Steve would kiss the impurity with holy lips and call you angel.

Taking a deep breath, you tell him everything.

“He took me to a field. I recognized that it was Virginia the moment my feet touched the grass. I could see my childhood home up the hill and there was someone calling my name.” Your father’s voice echoes in your ears. You can’t remember the last time he called. “It was my dad.”

Steve pulls you closer.

“I ran to him, even though I knew it wasn’t real, but–” you were a child when he left. The wound will never fade. “I had to see him. I just… I wanted to remember what it was like to be held by him.”

Warm. You remember the warmth.

“Then suddenly I was falling. I screamed, but-but no one could hear me. I was in the woods. The same woods Will disappeared in and I was so scared he had him. That it was all my fault again. I was the one who lost him again. I started to run. I-I had to find him… But he wasn’t there.”

How many times had Will called for you the night he disappeared?

“He’s safe in California, Y/N.” Steve reminds you, tucking hair out of your face. He wants to smooth the worry lines in your face, mold your skin into something calmer, happier. “It wasn’t real.”

“I know none of it was real, but the things Vecna showed me…” Unable to bear saying anything else, you give yourself a moment to breathe. Nothing had been real. But it had felt real.

Steve frowns, sensing that there’s something else. “What else did he show you, angel?”

“You,” you breathe out, too weak to find any other way to say it. “He showed me you.”

Surprise mars his pretty face. “Me?”

“Nancy, too.” Wiping a tear, you fix Steve’s hair, needing something to distract yourself with. You don’t want to tell him any of this. Shame coats your body but the love in his eyes subdues it. “Vecna preys on your fears, your insecurities, and for me… He showed me you and Nancy together. Having sex.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.

“He told me that you’d never forget her. Not as easily as my father forgot me, at least.” You laugh bitterly. “He has a sick sense of humor. I’ll give him that.”

Still Steve remains silent.

But for once, his silence doesn’t scare you. There’s a trust behind it. An understanding that he wants you to continue, to tell him everything. And you do.

“I’m scared my guilt will suffocate me.” The confession falls from your lips as easily as a prayer does. “I’m scared of starting a life with someone that I can’t control. I’m scared that I’ll always be abandoned. That I’ll always be second to Nancy. Every boy I have loved has loved her. Who wouldn’t be terrified of that?”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, angel.” Steve cups your face. He doesn’t know what he feels right now. Anger, for both you and him. Agony that he can’t absolve you from the guilt, from the thought of him leaving you. “I love you. Only you.”

“I know you do,” you bring your hand to his face as well. He leans against your palm, gaze tragic and loyal. There is no doubt that he loves you. That has never been what you’ve doubted.

It’s always been the how.

How he came to love you. After Nancy. After she left him. After you picked up the pieces she left behind. The love that you know is yours is genuine, but you’ve always been terrified that the foundations of it are false.

With Steve staring down at you as if you’ve hung the sun and moon for him, you ask him the question that’s been lingering in the back of your mind ever since he crashed into your life.

“Would you have loved me even without Nancy? If we hadn’t fallen together because of her, would you still have fallen in love with me?”

The answer comes easily to Steve. “Always.”

And it’s everything you need from him. One word, but it’s enough.

Your fist grips his shirt. A tug, no time to prepare, and your lips crash together. There is nothing soft. The kiss is bruising and it is rough and hard and urgent. Everything left unsaid between you and Steve rises to your lips and melts into your tongues. For every broken promise, there is a bite of skin, a lick of flesh. For every hurt you brought upon the other, there is a soft moan of an apology.

Heat pours from your teeth and into Steve’s lungs. Your breaths become one, your heartbeats overlap and he is everywhere. He is an explosion of light festering on your skin.

“I see more than just a future with you,” Steve whispers against your lips, hushed and aching. It takes everything within him to pull away for even a second. He kisses you again. Over and over until he’s memorized every crevice of your lips, the cracks on them. “I see my entire life with you.”

Steve breathes you in, hands cradling your face as if to steady the dizziness within him. He looks into your eyes, follows the flushed pink of your lips and your staccato breathing. He takes you in and hopes he never has to forget the way you look when you are in love.

“I would wait forever,” lips skim the length of your face. Feather light kisses trace your nose, flutter against your eyelids. Inhaling sharply, Steve rests his forehead against yours. He stays there. He will never leave. “I would wait forever if it meant I could start forever with you.”

This is love. This is what can never be taken from me.

“Hey! Lip smackers!” Robin bangs through the RV door, scaring the shit out of you and Steve and causing you to spring apart. She smirks at your reaction, though she tries to cover it with a scoff. She crosses her arms. “Are you assholes gonna help us, or are you too busy swapping spit?”

Steve’s face turns fire red. “Do you always have to be so vulgar?”

“It’s why people find me so charming. Right, Y/N?”

“As long as the nickname ‘lip smackers’ doesn’t stick, I’ll agree with whatever.” You say, getting off the couch.

Robin laughs. “I actually kinda like it. Has a nice ring to it, ya know?”

“No,” you and Steve say at the same time. Your “no” is more bored while Steve’s is more panicked.

Rolling your eyes at his affronted reaction, you pat his cheek lovingly and press a quick kiss to it. “Nicknames aside, I should go. There’s one more person I need to talk to.”

Steve tilts his head at you, silently asking who, but you don’t respond. Instead, you turn to Robin. “Whatever you make him help you with, just promise me you won’t scar his pretty face. I have to look at it for the rest of my life.”

Robin grins, secretly relieved the two of you finally seem to be okay again. “No promises, pretty girl. He’s gonna help me make molotov cocktails and we all know his hair is a fire hazard.”

“Ha ha,” Steve laughs boredly. “Very funny.”

You giggle alongside Robin, leaving them to grab their needed supplies. The sunlight outside kisses your skin and in the distance you find Eddie chasing Dustin around. They wield their makeshift shields around, laughing like children.

The image of them before you leaves you breathless for a moment. Even when everything seems grim and hopeless, Eddie has still found a way to make your brother laugh.

They don’t see you approaching them. You have to sidestep Dustin, who nearly runs into you. “Woah!” You grab his shoulders, steadying him. Something pokes your thigh, and when you look down you realize it’s his nail filled trash lid. “God, you’re bound to poke someone’s eye out.”

“What are you doing here?” Dustin asks you, looking around for Steve.

“I came to ask if I could steal Eddie away from you for a second.” You respond, shrugging as if you’ve ever offered to interact with Eddie outside of Dustin. “I need to talk to him.”

Both boys widen their eyes. Eddie pales, while Dustin narrows his eyes at you. “The last time I let you talk to one of my friends, you ended up making him your boyfriend.”

Eddie blanches while you flick your brother’s forehead. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t want Eddie to be my boyfriend.”

Without another word, you grab Eddie by his jacket and yank him away. Dustin shouts at you that he’ll rat you out to Steve, but you don’t care. Eddie is a mumbling mess, unsure what you want with him and slightly terrified he’s done something wrong.

When you’re far enough away from everyone else, you finally release him. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you look at Eddie. “I owe you an apology.”

“Oh.” He blinks. This definitely hadn’t been what he was expecting. “Can I ask what for?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know I kinda lost my mind earlier. You can say it.” You roll your eyes. “I won’t kill you.”

“Says the girl who held a knife to my throat.”

“Water under the bridge.” Your fingers fidget. You know this is the right thing to do, but it still makes you uncomfortable. “Look, it was wrong of me to snap at you. I, uh. Get pretty defensive when it comes to accepting help.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, although his eyes flash with slight amusement.

You clear your throat. “I guess I also struggle to accept when I’m no longer needed.”

“Bullshit.” Eddie laughs in your face. “The universe will always need Hawkin’s sweetheart. Don’t sound so pessimistic, sunshine.”

“You never shut up, do you?” You cut him off, glaring. Here you are, trying to be vulnerable with him, and he’s laughing at you. “Jesus. Anyways, what I’m trying to say is, I shockingly have found myself tolerating you.”

“Gee, you really know how to make a guy feel special.”

“I try,” you glance quickly at Eddie, smirking, and he smirks back. “For a long time, I didn’t understand what Dustin saw in you. You were a total jackass with a giant ego, but I guess these last few days have proven you’re only a tolerable jackass with a moderately oversized ego.”

A surprised laugh leaves Eddie’s lips. “Wow, you really aren’t holding back.”

“Figured we’re overdue for some honesty.” You hate being vulnerable, but Eddie deserves this. Swallowing down your nerves, you finally confess the real reason you’re here. “I’ve never had to place Dustin’s safety in someone else’s hands. I’ve always found a way to be there for him, even through years of constant hell and monsters. I’ve always… I’ve always been the one to protect him.”

Eddie’s laughter is gone.

“But tonight I can’t. Tonight, all I can do is make you promise me that you’ll keep my baby brother safe. I-” Your voice breaks, there are tears that you don’t want to fall. “I need you to promise me, Eddie.”

He sucks in a breath. The boyish humor he so often portrays is stoic. He’s serious, perhaps for the very first time since you’ve met him.

The two of you stare at one another, both unwavering, before Eddie slowly, almost mischievously, extends his pinky to you. “I promise.”

Linking your pinky around his, your cheeks burn from the suppressed smile.

–

The sun is setting when everyone climbs back into the RV. No one speaks. There isn’t anything else to talk about, driving to the Creel house.

The silence weighs heavily upon the car, setting alongside the sun. You sit in the passenger seat, holding your knives to your chest with your headphones dangling over your neck. There is still blood staining the bandage on your shoulder. The bites on your thigh aches.

You’ve done all that you can. You keep repeating this to yourself, over and over again like a prayer.

You’ve prepared, you’ve planned, you’ve sacrificed. There isn’t anything else you can do. All that’s left is the end.

Steve sits next to you, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. His forehead is creased and his shoulders are tense. The closer you get to the house, the more he draws into himself.

When you finally get to the house, Erica, Lucas, and Max almost leave without saying anything else. While there are no more well wishes to give, no more luck to spare, you can’t bear the thought of leaving them without hearing their voices.

“Be careful,” you follow after them, exiting the RV as well. The three of them turn to you, bittersweet smiles on their faces. They knew you’d do this.

“We will.” Lucas reassures you, refraining himself from reaching out. He knows that if he hugs you now, he may never let you go. Instead, he ducks his head at you. “We’ll see you later, alright?”

Blinking back tears, you nod back at him. The siblings walk away, leaving you alone with Max. A part of you wonders if they planned this. Stepping towards her, you try one last time to exchange her life for yours.

“Can I at least ask you not to antagonize Vecna? If you try to persuade him to take you instead, I’m haunting your grave.” It’s a vile thing to say, a joke that you know you’ll come to regret, but it’s the only way you know to get Max to laugh one last time.

Max does laugh, but she also doesn’t promise you anything. Instead, she exchanges her life for yours. “If he chooses you, remember to picture your good memories. Hide in them. Run to the light.”

You nod, you’ve spoken briefly about her plan before. It makes sense, in a way. Instead of getting trapped in the bad memories Vecna shows you, you need to hide in the good. Except what Max says next hadn’t been discussed.

“It’s what Billy tried to do with you. You were his light.”

It catches you off guard, freezing your lungs.

“His final words… they took me a while to understand. But I think I know now, and I don’t want you blaming yourself for any of it.” Max’s gaze softens. “You told Billy to find you, and that’s what he tried to do.”

But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?

Talking to you… sweetheart.

Like pieces of a puzzle, everything falls into place.

Unable to stop yourself, you throw your arms around Max. She tenses, and you almost release her with an apology, before she melts; she hugs you back. It’s been a long time since she’s done that.

“Billy was trying to find the light,” she whispers into your ear. “That’s how we’re going to survive.”

And you believe her.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #bdyr #m's writing #so many goddamn conversations #like yeah theyre all important but CHRIST

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ir-abelas-vhenan · 2 days ago

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Losing My Mind over Veilguard 8/??

See, I waited a perfectly reasonable amount of time before coming in swinging again but I actually cannot get over how dead the game is. Literally. (Me ranting about an early game quest in Minrathous incoming)

Spoilers below the break

So. The first time you go to dock town? And Neve says in one of seventy different ways "no you don't have to come with me, this is my home not yours, I can handle this myself if you want to stay back" ?(but the showing not telling argument is for another day so I'll refocus and conserve energy for another day). Anyways.

This quest. The one where you go into the chantry in Minrathous and surprise!

Dead bodies absolutely EVERYWHERE.

I took a screenshot and then lost it, but it's worth mentioning that in my game, Neve's line of dialogue above about tracking down family and friends of the deceased didn't even trigger. If it had, however, I still would have lost my mind.

Why, you might ask?

Because after counting, losing count because I was counting so high, and then recounting about seven thousand times I can confidently tell you that plus or minus two to three more corpses, there are EIGHTY SIX dead bodies in the CHANTRY. The holy center of an incredibly popular religion! And even if it weren't that! It is a massive grounds with EIGHTY SIX DEAD PEOPLE who were KILLED HORRIFICALLY BY THE VENATORI AND DEMONS. How are you going to have the time to track down next of kin for that many people? And WHY are we acting like this is NORMAL?!

Dock Town is played very one-note already as a neighborhood where sketchy things happen and people go missing and it's best to just keep your head down if you're not in a position to do something about it.

But oh my sweet baby Maker come onnnnnnn.

You aren't going to recover from this if you're this branch of the Chantry. Presumably, you've just taken a massive hit across all levels of your religious hierarchy and that takes time and training to fill. And dock town is poor as hell, so where are you going to get the funding to fix this sudden staffing issue?

How does this affect (per @housederiva's iconic posts) Viper? Ya know, the guy we have found out through datamining is literally the Black Divine?? All we see (in the scenario where Treviso is saved) is him sadly sitting outside the chantry going "we remember the fallen" and that's presumably for the people lost when the dragon attacked, with nothing spared for the (again, I can't not lose my mind over this) eighty six dead people who were devoted to the same cause he is!

A whole smattering of holy women have just been yeeted off the mortal coil and it means absolutely nothing to your immediate party save for some of the emptiest lines ever, the city as a whole, or in the larger lore of the game. At all.

There are so many moments like this that had me rapidly oscilating between screaming at my ceiling and looking exactly like this:

And this isn't even something they can pass off as being too tied to the source material and wanting to start "fresh". This is just lazy, empty, disappointing storytelling and it's why I lose my mind a little more every time I see an ardent defender of the game tell an older fan to "get over it" or "let go of your expectations."

Because having something like (so sorry) EIGHTY SIX DEATHS go down with actually NO ripples throughout the rest of the game coming from ANY studio, let alone one that used to kill this kind of thing, is crazy to me. And I will die on that hill, even if it means Neve just kind of skips over my body on her way to find my next of kin only to never spare me another thought again.

#veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard critical #datv critical #dragon age veilguard #datv spoilers #veilguard critical

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aajjks · 3 days ago

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The Conqueror (XXIV)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader

warnings: yàndèré, Dàrk thèmès, Fòrcèd màrrìàgè, Tàlk òf vìrgìnìty ànd màrrìàgè cònsùmmàtìòn, Gòssìpìng, Còld béhàvìòr, Ùnhéàlthỳ rèlàt��ònsìp, Dèprèssìòn.

note. besties I hope you enjoy this, The reason I’m updating this more often now is because I want to finish the story as soon as I can and please share your feedback because it’s really important to me. I love you guys enjoy! Ash I finished this chapter just for you x

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taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @sprinkleoftee @koremis @minshookie29 @sana-b @bangtannoonalvg @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @lanalanexpjm @namjooncrabs @shadowmoon21 @kookunot @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @iwasfuckinginnocentonce @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @silversparkles11 @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia @hollxe1 @bighitfics @darkuni63 @golden-thv @investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @koocreampie (I can’t tag anymore people, it’s full 😭😭)

•••

You wake up, and the first thing you notice is the absence of him-

Jungkook. The bed is cold, empty. You feel the space beside you, where his body should have been, yet it remains untouched.

Why is he the first thing on your mind when you wake up?

You were the one who sent him away last night so you should be happy about it, as you rub your blurry eyes, your vision finally clears.

The sheets are crisp and neat, too neat, too clean.

As you sit up, the ladies-in-waiting enter quietly, their movements practiced. They approach the bed, and immediately, you see them take note of the immaculate sheets, the lack of any sign of what should have been..

A mark of possession, a proof of consummation.

“Good Morning to Our Lady Jeon.”

A sense of dread creeps up when they refer to you as a Jeon.

“Lady yn,” Na-yeon calls, her voice soft yet commanding, “it’s time to prepare for your duties as the emperor’s wife. The king will be expecting you.”

You nod, but you can’t shake the guilt settling in your chest. You already know what they’re whispering about. The sheets, they’re clean. There’s no sign of the king’s touch, no evidence of the night that was supposed to bond you together.

One of the maids, her voice barely above a whisper, says, “She wasn’t touched last night. Look at that. There’s no mark, no blood.”

Another one replies in a hushed tone, “No sign of anything.”

They probably know that you can hear them, but do they give a fuck about it? No.

So what? you want to scream but you can’t

You feel the weight of their words, like they’re pressing down on you, suffocating you. You know they’re gossiping, but you can’t stop the flush of embarrassment that creeps up your neck. The sheets, the clean, untouched sheets, they feel like a reflection of your rejection. You had turned him away last night. You had rejected him. And now, the palace is talking.

You don’t regret rejecting him, but there is a guilt that is so heavy.

You are undeniably embarrassed.

The guilt tightens your chest. It feels as though the weight of the entire palace is on your shoulders.

You didn’t want to, but it happened.

You couldn’t let yourself go through with it. Not like that. Not when you know what kind of man he is.

He is a monster. He’s someone who killed your father and ruined your entire fucking life. How could you let someone like him touch you?

You hate him so much but then why didn’t you feel the satisfaction when he had walked away from you last night leaving you untouched?the shame of turning him away is like a shadow following you now.

The ladies continue their work, preparing you for the day ahead, but the whispers echo in your mind, too loud, too real.

You were the one who rejected him last night, so why do you feel embarrassed? He’s the one who should feel embarrassed… why are they gossiping about it like it’s a big deal? You will never let someone like him touch you anyways.

So why does it feel like there is a heavy burden on your heart and why do you feel so embarrassed about still being a virgin?

They dress you in your royal attire, the weight of the silk robes feeling heavier than ever. The red and gold, the fine embroidery—it should feel like power, but instead, it feels like a prison.

You feel like a fucking puppet

Finally, they place the pin in your hair. It’s subtle but significant. You immediately feel the burden of the pen on you because you realize that you are now actually the emperor’s wife.

You’re still not queen yet and you hope that you won’t be, but this pin indicates that you are married to the emperor of Goryeo.

Emperor Jeon Jungkook. A.k.a. your worst nightmare.

You are the emperor’s wife, but not yet queen. It’s a constant reminder of your place, of how far you are from the woman you want to be, and how close you are to the role you’re forced to play.

They leave you alone with your thoughts, but you can’t escape them. You look at yourself in the mirror, trying to connect with the woman you see with the woman you feel like inside. A pawn. A possession.

The sound of tea and breakfast wafts into the room, but it feels like a distant, empty thing. Time to face him,

The emperor awaits.

“My Lady. Come on let’s go into the dining hall where you will be joined by the emperor Jeon.”

Looks like you’re not gonna be able to eat because whenever you’re in his presence, you feel sick to your stomach.

But it’s not like you have any choice.

•••

You sit at the long, opulent dining table, the sound of footsteps echoing from behind you.

The breakfast spread is grand & delicate plates of rice, fruit, meat, and steamed buns, the aroma of the dishes wafting through the air. Yet, all of it feels distant, as though it’s meant for someone else. The golden utensils, the fine porcelain cups

It’s not meant for you.

none of it feels real. Not when you know what hangs between you and Jungkook.

He enters the room quietly, his presence is as always commanding.

His tall frame fills the doorway, and despite the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the large windows, he seems to cast a shadow.

His dark curly long hair is perfectly styled, his robes a deep crimson, embroidered with gold threads, marking him as the emperor. He is a king, but right now, he looks like someone out of reach, someone untouchable.

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you as he takes his seat across from you, his gaze cold. There’s no warmth in his look, no softness.

The air between you feels thick with tension, and you know, without a doubt, it’s because of last night.

You meet his gaze, but the words you want to speak catch in your throat. You can feel his anger, simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He’s holding back, but just barely. His hands rest on the table, his fingers clenched tightly around the delicate porcelain tea cup in front of him.

“You know,” Jungkook begins, his voice low, almost mocking, “last night was supposed to be different. I thought…” His voice trails off for a moment as he takes a sip of tea, his eyes never leaving you. “I thought I might have finally gotten what I’ve been waiting for. But you, you rejected me.”

He scoffs.

“You know? You look so beautiful. But it’s useless. Your beauty is useless.”

His words cut through the air like a knife, and your chest tightens. You can feel the weight of his gaze, his cold stare, as he leans back slightly in his chair, studying you.

“I don’t understand,” he continues, his voice is turning sharper. “You’ve been in this palace for a year. You’ve been living in luxury, waiting for this moment. Yet, when it comes, you turn away from me? What makes you think you can do that, hm?”

You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. It’s hard to speak when the tension in the room is so thick, so suffocating. You know you can’t apologize, not with the pride he carries. But you can’t keep quiet either.

His presence is so overwhelming and maybe the guilt in your heart is also weighing on you.

“I didn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp gesture of his hand, signaling that he doesn’t want to hear your excuses.

He just dismissed you like you mean nothing.

“You didn’t what?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t want me? The man who made you his wife?” His lips curl into a cruel smile.

He thinks that you are pathetic.

“You really think you can just refuse me and walk away from it all? There’s no escaping me, not anymore. You belong to me now, whether you like it or not.”

The words hit you like a slap, and you look away, unable to meet his eyes. The food in front of you suddenly loses its appeal, the steam rising from the rice feeling like it’s choking you.

You want to speak up, to explain yourself, but you know it won’t change anything. He won’t listen. Not now, not after what happened last night.

Jungkook leans forward, his eyes narrowing as if he’s waiting for you to speak, to beg, to plead for his forgiveness. He’s enjoying this, you realize.

Enjoying the control he has over you, enjoying the way you’re forced to sit there and endure his words.

“Well?” He presses, the coldness in his voice now unmistakable. “Are you going to explain yourself? Or are you just going to sit there and pretend everything is fine?”

You clench your fists in your lap, the urge to stand up and leave the room almost overwhelming. But you can’t. You can’t leave. Not when the emperor is sitting right in front of you, and you know the consequences of defying him.

Instead, you hold your breath and force yourself to speak but no words come out.

His expression darkens, and he leans forward, his eyes locked on yours, piercing and dark.

“You’re my wife. But you are one ungrateful woman, and if you don’t want me to touch you, then I won’t.”

The words make your skin itch, your chest is tightening with a mixture of fear and frustration.

You didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’s the emperor. He’s always had power. He’s never had to ask for anything, he just takes it.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be forced into this life,” you mutter, barely able to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “To be used as a pawn in your game.”

His eyes flash with anger, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to snap. But instead, he leans back in his chair again, his jaw clenched tight.

“You don’t get to speak to me like that,” he warns, his voice dangerously calm. “You may be my wife, but I will not tolerate disrespect. Not from you. Not from anyone.”

“Especially not from you yn.”

The room grows silent, the only sound the clinking of silverware and the soft hum of the palace outside. You know he’s not done with you yet. This conversation is far from over. But for now, he sits in silence, his anger barely contained.

You don’t know what to expect next. Will he lash out? Will he punish you? You’re not sure, but deep down, you know one thing—

This is only the beginning of the torture that you’re going to be facing for the rest of your life.

“Fuck.. you just know how to ruin my fucking mood, but there are other important things that I need to make sure that you know.” he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his simmering anger down.

Jungkook looks at you with his unyielding cold gaze.

“ the king of China, along with his daughter will be arriving to our empire in a few days. They have started their journey through ship so they shall be here in sometime. They are coming here to congratulate us on our marriage and maybe some political alliances but that is none of your concern.”

His tone is mocking.

“What should be your concern is that you’re going play the perfect wife in front of them, and if you don’t, my love?” he smiles, sickly at you.

“There will be severe consequences. Because you don’t seem to be wanting my love. So instead, I’m going give you my anger and my hatred.”

Those words of his send shivers down your spine because he says them such practiced ease. And what’s even more unsettling is the fact that his eyes seem to be empty and cold.

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doctorbitchcrxft · 1 day ago

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Time Is On My Side | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: y/n is getting unhinged as fuck man, torture, mentions of childhood trauma,

Word Count: 4738

A/N: this gif should not be attractive but here i am sitting in a puddle... WHO SAID THAT

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Three weeks. All Dean had left was three weeks.

It felt like your heart was constantly in your throat. It felt like you could never get Dean close enough to you when you slept beside him. No amount of late night conversation or sexual escapades could save you from the anxiety you had welling up inside you.

And so, you went back to work trying to find the demon holding Dean’s contract.

You lingered behind Sam in the back of a dark room in an abandoned cabin where Dean was throwing every torture he could possibly think of at the demon strapped to the chair in front of him. “You ready to talk?”

“I don't know,” he wailed. “I don't know anything!”

“Oh, you hear that, guys?” Dean taunted. “He doesn't know anything.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Sam smirked.

You stayed silent.

“I'm telling you the truth,” the demon pleaded.

“Oh, you are? My god, then I owe you an apology. Allow me to make it up to you.” Dean held the demon’s mouth open and forced Holy Water down his throat. “I'm gonna ask you one last time: who holds my contract?!”

You were mentally scolding yourself for finding this interrogation sexy in any manner.

The demon went quiet and hung his head low. He looked up with inky black eyes, smiling. “Your mother. Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me right before I bent her over.”

“I want a name. Or else—”

The demon cut Dean off. “Or what? You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a flea bite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack. Do what you want. The only thing I'm scared of is the demon holding your ticket.”

You stepped forward for the first time. “Let me try something.”

Dean looked at you skeptically, but the wheels in your head began to turn. The boys hadn’t seen you in action with an interrogation just yet; a skill you could credit your father for bestowing upon you.

“Oh, god,” the demon laughed. “Gonna torture me with a kiss, pretty girl?”

You kept your gaze ahead, preparing for what you were going to have to do to this demon. “We got any salt in the trunk, Dean?”

He shot you another skeptical look. “Yeah…?”

You nodded at him to go get it while you circled the demon holding the iron fire poker behind your back. When you were behind him, you quickly carved the binding link symbol into the back of his neck through the demon’s screams of protest.

The demon laughed when you were finished. “A binding link? Really?”

“Hate to say it, I’m with him on this one,” said Sam, looking at you with confusion written all over his face.

You gave him a look that told him to just trust you. When Dean returned with the large bag of salt he had in the trunk, you doused the iron poker in holy water and dipped it in the salt. “Is this gonna feel like a flea bite?” you asked, your face completely flat.

The demon’s eyes flashed with fear, but he kept his “tough guy” persona up. You lightly cut down his left thigh with your knife before shoving the poker in the wound, and he screamed out louder than Dean had been able to manage making him.

“Who holds Dean’s contract?” you asked evenly.

“I can’t tell you,” he replied flippantly.

“You can,” you said, “you just don’t want to.” You cut down the inside of his left thigh and created a deep gash, repeating the same action of putting the poker inside the wound. “See why I wanted you stuck inside?” you snarled. “You’d miss all the fun.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” he cried.

You recoated the iron in holy water and salt. You cut up the side of his torso and put the poker against the wound once more. “Tell me,” you demanded.

“No!” he screamed in agony.

“Tell me!” you screamed in his face, holding the poker to his throat.

“(Y/N)—” you heard Dean say quietly from behind you.

You shoved the demon to the ground, still bound to his chair, and grabbed a handful of salt. Harshly, you rubbed it into the bleeding wound on the inside of his thigh. “Fucking tell me!”

“(Y/N)!” Dean pulled you up from the demon by your elbow. “Sam, finish this fucker.” He pulled you outside of the cabin, and you shrugged him off you.

“What the fuck, Dean?!”

“I couldn’t watch you do that anymore,” he said.

“What, get some demon to spill his guts? I thought that was what we’re here to do,” you scoffed.

“Yeah, but that?” Dean pointed back at the cabin. You could see Sam exorcizing the demon through the window. “I’m not gonna watch you do that to yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I’m fine,” you responded.

“I’ve never known you to be like that,” he told you.

“Like what?”

“Like me,” he answered, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“C’mon, Dean—” you rolled your eyes. “This has nothing to do with my character versus yours or something like that. This is a desperate time. Desperate times, desperate measures.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Why is this just a casual thing for you?”

“I grew up a hunter with a mean ass dad, Dee. He taught me all this,” you said, waving your hand in reference to the cabin.

“Really?” he questioned. “You never told me that.”

“It never really came up,” you smiled lopsidedly. “Besides, not much time for backstories when we’re trying to break a demon deal and keep Sam from going Dark Side.”

“Don’t do that again. Not for me, okay?” Dean asserted. “I can’t watch that again.”

“I’m not asking you to,” you replied. “But if it gets us some answers, I will do it again.” Dean went to protest, but you kept going. “If it gets you out of this fucking deal, I’ll do pretty much anything. I love you, and I respect you, but this is not up for debate. I have a skill. Why not use it?”

***

“Guys, why are we gonna go after a fucking zombie when we should be focusing on Dean’s deal?” you asked, referring to the case Sam had found in the paper. “We’ve been on soul-saving detail for months now. But three weeks out, all of a sudden, you’re interested in workin’ a case?”

“Look,” Sam sighed, “I just thought since Dean’s been all gung ho to hunt, I’d be doing him a favor.”

“Obviously I wanna hunt some zombies, (Y/N),” Dean grinned.

You dropped your head back knowing you’d lost the fight.

***

The man who’d died had apparently had his liver removed surgically. After thoroughly convincing a coroner that you were insane, you realized your zombie theory was all wrong.

You remained fed up with the fact that you weren’t focusing on Dean’s deal but went along with the case anyway. While Sam and Dean remained focused on talking to another man who’d had an organ cut out of him, you were angry with the entirety of the situation; not specifically the two brothers.

Now, back in the motel, you sat on Sam’s bed while Dean happily chomped on a burger. You pretended to research on your laptop while Sam actually worked on his.

“So, I got a theory,” Sam piped up.

“Yeah?” Dean asked through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, I talked to Mr. Giggle's doctor. Turns out his incisions were sewn up with silk.”

That caught your attention. “What?”

“That’s weird,” Dean added.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, nowadays, it is, but silk used to be the suture of choice back in the early 19th century. It was really problematic. Patients would get massive infections. The death rate was insane.”

“Good times,” Dean quipped.

“Right, so doctors, they had to do whatever they could to keep infections from spreading. One way was maggots,” Sam grimaced.

“Dude, I’m eating,” Dean winced.

“It actually kind of worked because maggots, they eat bad tissue, and they leave good tissue. And get this. When they found our guy, his body cavity was stuffed full of maggots,” Sam explained.

“Dude, I'm eating!” Dean groaned. “Alright, let me get this straight. So, people are getting ganked, right? A little ‘antiques roadshow’ surgery, some organ theft. But why is this all sounding familiar?”

“Uh, Dr. Frankenstein?” you quipped.

“No, because he’s heard it before,” said Sam. “When you were a kid. From Dad. Doc Benton: real-life doctor, lived in New Hampshire, brilliant and obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. So, in 1816, Doc abandons his practice and—”

“Right, yeah,” Dean cut his brother off, “nobody hears from him for like 20 years, and all of sudden, people start showing up dead.”

“Dead or missing an organ or the hand or some other kind of part.”

“ 'Cause whatever he was doing was actually working. He just kept on ticking. Parts would wear out; he'd replace them. But I thought Dad hunted him down and took his heart out.”

“Yeah, I guess the Doc must have plugged in a new one.”

“Alright, where's he doing the deed?” Dean questioned.

“According to this, Benton's picky about where he sets up his lab. He likes dense forest with access to a river or stream or some kind of freshwater,” replied Sam.

Dean took another huge bite of his burger. “Why?”

“Because that's where he likes to dump the bile and intestines and fecal matter.”

Dean gagged.

“Lost your appetite yet?” Sam deadpanned.

Dean considered, looking down at his burger. “Oh, baby, I can’t stay mad at you.”

Though you normally would have giggled at Dean’s joke, you simply rolled your eyes this time.

Dean had apparently been expecting you to laugh, too. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing.” You shut your laptop and walked out with the brothers staring after you to smoke a joint.

***

Almost an hour of you sitting outside later, Dean marched out of the room with his bag.

“Where you going?” you asked him.

“Sam lied to us. He knew Benton was here,” he replied, throwing his duffel into the back of the car.

“What?!” you exclaimed angrily.

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “And Bobby knows where Bela is. That’s where I’m goin’.”

“I’m coming with you,” you asserted. Off his look, you stated, “I’m not asking.”

“Can’t say I’m loving this new attitude of yours,” Dean said as you headed back to your shared room for your bag.

“My dude’s gonna die in three weeks. Forgive me if I’m a little on edge,” you called over your shoulder as you strutted ahead.

***

Dean drove well into the night as you sat beside him holding his hand. You couldn’t help but want to constantly be touching just to revel in the fact that he was here, and he was okay.

You arrived in Canaan, Vermont around three in the morning. You and Dean stopped at a motel to get a few hours of sleep before you would head to meet Bobby’s contact, Rufus Turner.

“I’m sorry,” Dean told you through the dark, holding you against his chest.

“For what?”

“Everything,” he replied, voice rumbling deeply in his chest. “I’m sorry I’ve been hard on you. I know this has been…” he trailed off, sighing.

“You don’t need to apologize, Dee,” you told him. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just stressed out.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

You tilted your face up toward him and kissed his chin. “It’s okay. Let yourself off the hook.”

The two of you didn’t speak for the rest of the night, but you knew that Dean wasn’t sleeping. The both of you were staring up at the ceiling thinking about what was awaiting Dean in less than three weeks.

The evidence of that showed in the bags that hung under your eyes as you approached Rufus Turner’s house. A handwritten sign hung on the porch reading, “No solicitors, that means you! No asking for donations. No selling ANYTHING!"

Dean rang the buzzer and than banged on the door.

You heard a noise behind you and turned to see a security camera positioning itself toward you. “What?” a man’s voice asked through the intercom.

“Hi,” you said politely. “Rufus?”

“Yeah, even if I am, the question is still the same. What?”

“I’m (Y/N). This is Dean. We’re friends of Bobby Singer’s,” you replied.

“So?” he asked.

“You called him this morning,” explained Dean.

“So?”

Dean tried to flash a charming grin at the camera despite his obviously growing frustration. “You told Bobby about a British chick who made contact with you.”

“And so?” Rufus continued.

“You know where she is?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Could you tell me where I could find her?”

“No.”

“ ‘Course not,” Dean muttered to himself. He looked back up at the camera. “Look, Rufus, man—”

The door jerked open to reveal the man you’d been speaking to. “Look, let me point something out to you. You are knocking at my door, so don't ‘Look, man’ me. I'm not your man.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Dean replied politely. It was like he was speaking to his father, and how quickly he snapped into line startled you slightly.

“Alright, let me tell you a little story,” Rufus began. “See, once upon a time, Bobby called me, asked me to call him if I got a whiff of this Bela Talbot. I got a whiff. I called. The end.”

“Okay, yeah, if you could just tell me where she is, I mean, that would be great,” Dean chuckled awkwardly.

“Dean, right?”

Dean nodded.

“Dean, do I look like I'm here to help you?”

“I’m gonna say no?”

“Then get the hell off my property.”

“Would a bottle of scotch change your mind?” you asked, holding up the bottle Bobby suggested you bring with a lopsided smile.

Rufus eyed you, brows drawn, then the bottle, and then grinned.

***

Rufus was actually pretty cool once you’d gotten to know him and plied him with a little liquor. What he told you about Bela was what really piqued your interest, though. Rufus managed to find Bela’s— well, Abby’s— records from England. She’d apparently lost her parents in an accident where it seemed the brake lines were cut on their car.

You didn’t drink, seeing as Dean wasn’t intending on being the responsible one in this scenario, and as a result, you drove a very drunken Dean back to your motel.

“But Bela—” he whined.

“I’ve got her. You’re staying here,” you asserted, doing your best to get him on your bed.

“I don’t want you going alone,” he replied.

“You are too drunk to be handling a gun, m’ love,” you told Dean. “I promise I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Wait.” Dean grabbed your hand as you turned for the door. “Be safe, okay?”

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You helped Dean tug off his boots and get into bed. He passed out pretty much as soon as he hit the pillow, and you gave him a lingering kiss on his forehead before you left.

***

As soon as Bela closed the door to her hotel room, you were on her with your arm across her throat and your gun in her face. “Where’s the Colt?” you sneered.

“(Y/N),” she replied calmly.

“No extra words,” you asserted.

She quirked a brow at you. “It's long gone, across the world by now.”

“Liar,” you said, shoving her neck harder. You grabbed her bag from her hand to look in it, keeping your gun firmly trained on the place right between her eyebrows.

“I'll call the buyer. Speak Farsi?” she smirked.

You pulled her against you and made quick work of frisking her in search of her gun.

“What the hell are you—?!”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, dangling her gun in front of her face that you’d found tucked in her waistband. You used the tip of your gun’s barrel to flick the light on, then pointed it back at her. “Don’t fucking move, or I’ll kill you, I swear to god.”

You began to search the room, taking every drawer and bag apart.

“I told you, I don’t have it,” Bela spoke evenly.

“We are way past trust, angel,” you explained to her. When you heard movement behind you, you shot at the door inches from her head. “I told you not to fucking move.” You continued searching.

After a few minutes, she spoke again. “It's gone. Get on a plane if you must. Track down the buyer. You might catch up to him eventually.”

You angrily threw the last drawer open, rummaged through it, and stood with your gun pointed at her head.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

You simply nodded in response.

“You're not cold-blooded, darling.” Bela rolled her eyes.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you stated flatly. “The boys are more of the Care Bear type than I am.”

She gave you a skeptical look. “Really.”

“Really,” you smirked cruelly. “You and I are way more alike than I think you realize.”

“How’s that?” she snickered.

“Both annoyingly bitchy. Both with various vices and addictions. Both brutally honest. And we both killed our parents,” you told her. “But what I can’t work out is why you did it.”

She looked completely shocked but tried to maintain her composure. “I don't know what you're talking—”

“Yes, you do,” you replied. “Don’t fuck with me. You were, what, fourteen? Shady car accident, police suspected a slashed brake line, and little Bela— well, Abby— inherits millions. Ringing any bells?”

Her mouth agape, she breathed out, “How did you—”

“Doesn’t matter,” you drawled.

“They were lovely people. And I killed them. And I got rich. I can't be bothered to give a damn. Just like I don't care what happens to Dean,” she shrugged.

Seeing red, you pushed her against the door with your arm against her throat again.

“You make me sick,” you snarled.

“Likewise,” she grinned.

You backed away from her, pointed your gun, and cocked it. Then, you noticed the woven herbs hanging above her door were ones used for warding off Hellhounds. Deciding killing her now would be letting her off easy, you clicked the safety back into place and shoved her out of your way. “I’ll see you around, Abby.”

***

When you returned to the motel, Dean woke up as soon as you opened the door. He hummed sleepily.

“Morning, princess,” you smiled.

“You haven’t called me that in a while,” his deep voice rumbled.

You giggled. “Figured it was time to bring it back.”

“Is she—?” Dean trailed off, referring to Bela.

“No,” you said. “She will be soon, though.”

He shot you a confused and slightly irritated look. “I thought you were gonna—”

“I was. And then I saw Devil’s shoestring hangin’ above her door. I figured that would be a more suitable death for her,” you shrugged.

“Damn, she made a deal?” he questioned, getting up from bed.

“I’m guessing to kill her parents,” you replied.

“Good thinkin’. Well, let’s get goin’ back to Sam.”

You nodded. “Sure you don’t need to nurse that hangover first?” you asked mockingly.

He groaned. “That scotch was some serious shit, man.”

***

“I’m really fucked this time, (Y/N),” Dean admitted, voice breaking slightly.

You pulled your eyes from the road to look at him for a brief second. “Dee…”

“No,” he shook his head. “The Colt’s gone, and Sam was right. Bela was a goose chase.” Dean’s phone rang. “Speaking of…” he trailed off as he answered the phone. “You okay? Was he there?... Did you kill him?... What do you mean, ‘no’?... What, the live-forever formula?... Great, let me guess. I got to drink blood out of a baby's skull?... Wait, wait, wait. What are— What are you saying? You think… Okay, so, this formula…” He suddenly got panicked. “Sam?! Sammy!” He slammed his phone shut. “Dammit! Drive faster, (Y/N).”

“What happened?!” you questioned.

“He found Benton’s cabin. He said that whole, uh, live-forever thing is just science. Meaning… it’s doable. And then, Benton found him,” Dean explained.

“Oh, fuck.” You floored it completely. “Well, how the hell are we gonna find Sam? Weren’t there, like, five different possible cabins?!”

“I’m gonna get the phone company to put a track on it,” Dean responded.

After he did so, the car went quiet for another moment as you focused on driving. However, there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind. “Are you… Are you gonna take the elixir of life?”

Dean considered for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if this is gonna work.”

“Right. I don’t know if changing out whose pancreas you’re carrying is gonna have an effect on the Hellhounds’ ability to… y’know…”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “This fucking sucks.” He slumped down in his seat.

“Hey, all is not lost,” you told him.

He shot you a look that said, “Yeah, right.” “Look, right now, we just need to focus on Sam,” he asserted.

“Okay, then. What’s your plan?” you asked.

He gave you another look.

“Right,” you said dryly. “Why would you have a plan?”

***

Thankfully, when you got to Benton’s cabin, you found a bottle of chloroform on the table in the kitchen. Silently, you held it up to show Dean. He took it from you and drenched his Bowie knife in the liquid.

As you approached the cabin’s basement, you could hear Doctor Benton’s voice becoming closer and closer. Dean mouthed to you, “One, two, three,” and then, you and he began shooting at the doctor’s back after jumping out from behind the wall blocking the basement’s stairs from the rest of the room.

“Shoot all you want,” Benton grinned, approaching you. You let loose two more bullets, and Dean swept up behind him to stab him in the back.

He stumbled and turned around. “A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand? Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one.”

“Good. It should be pumping nice and strong,” Dean smirked. “Sending this stuff throughout your whole body. See, I picked up your little bottle upstairs and dipped the knife in it.”

Dr. Benton’s mouth fell open in shock, and his eyes rolled back in his head just before he collapsed.

“(Y/N), gimme a hand?” Sam asked as Dean dealt with Dr. Benton’s body.

You rushed to his side, unstrapped his limbs, and carefully peeled the pieces of duct tape off his eyelids that were holding them open. “You okay?” “Yeah. You got here just in time,” he smiled weakly.

You gave him a quick hug, both relieved that he was okay and happy to see him again.

“Alright, break it up,” Dean groaned. “Help me get this mook on the table. He’s fuckin’ heavy.”

***

You sat in the corner of the room waiting for Dr. Benton to wake up. After about an hour of twiddling your thumbs, the doctor groaned.

“Oh, hiya, Doc. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” Dean deadpanned.

“Please—” the doctor panicked.

“ ‘Please’ what?” Dean taunted. “You've been killing poor bastards for over a hundred-fifty years, and now, you got a request? Shut up.”

The creature struggled against his restraints. “No, you don't understand. I can help you. I know what you need.”

Dean ignored the doctor and focused on you and Sam. “We might have to cut him up into little bits. Y'know, this immortality thing is a bitch.”

“I can read the formula for you. You know… immortality… Forever young, never die,” he tried.

“Dean,” Sam said suddenly.

“Sam,” you warned.

He walked out of the room, indicating for you and Dean to follow.

You kept an eye on the doctor just to ensure he couldn’t go anywhere while Sam addressed his brother.

“I mean, we're talking Hell in three weeks, or needing a new kidney in, like, half a century,” Sam urged.

“Yeah, well, you can't exactly get those at a Kwik-E-Mart,” Dean snarked.

You kept silent.

“It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better. We just need time, Dean. I mean, please, just- just think about it.”

“No,” Dean replied firmly.

That surprised you, if you were honest.

“Dean, don't you want to live?” Sam asked in desperation.

Dean gave him a sympathetic look, but his voice was firm. “What he is isn't living. Look, this is simple.”

“Simple?” Sam scoffed.

“To me it is, okay,” Dean returned. “Black or white; human, not human.” He strolled back into the room to tower over the immobilized doctor. “See, what the Doc is is a fuckin’ monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell.”

“You don’t understand. I can help you!” The doctor yelled.

You poured more chloroform onto a rag and handed it to Dean. Dean covered the doctor’s mouth with it and turned to Sam. “Now, I'm gonna take care of him. You can either help me or not. It's up to you.”

***

The three of you laid the doctor’s body in the ground inside a refrigerator wrapped in chains. You dropped the doctor’s book on top of the box.

“No!” Benton wailed. “Stop it! I can help you!”

“Enjoy forever in there, Doc,” Dean said, sounding slightly emotionless.

As gruesome as the thought of being trapped down there forever was, it was what needed to be done. And so, you shoveled the displaced dirt back on top of the refrigerator and book.

When you’d dusted your hands off, you turned to the boys. “Alright, we gotta get the hell outta dodge.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Bela’s probably on her way to the motel as we speak,” you replied. “She swiped the receipt from my pocket.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything till now?” Dean asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“We were a little preoccupied!” you remarked. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get our shit before she gets there…. Should be in about three hours.”

***

After exactly three hours had passed, you called the motel room you’d been staying in while Dean drove the three of you away from trouble. Quickly, the phone picked up.

“Hiya, Abby,” you cooed. “Figured you’d be stopping by.”

“Wh—”

You cut Bela off. “I felt your hand in my pocket when you took that receipt.”

Her breathing had become quicker. “You don't understand.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure I do,” you told her calmly. “I saw that Devil’s shoestring hangin’ above your door. There’s only one use for that: holding Hellhounds at bay. So I went back and took another look at that obituary for your parents. Exactly ten years ago today. Happy anniversary, I guess.”

When Bela didn’t speak, you continued. “Is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal; our gun for your soul?”

“Yes,” she replied, and you could tell she was crying.

“But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing,” you nodded, pursing your lips.

“They changed the deal. They wanted me to kill Sam,” she cried.

“Really?” you mocked. “Wow, who’da thought that demons would’ve been untrustworthy. Well, I’ll leave you alone now. Let you live out your last few minutes in peace.”

“(Y/N), listen, I need help,” she begged.

“We are weeks past help, lovebug.”

“I know I don't deserve it,” Bela continued crying.

“Y’know, come to think of it, you don’t. But if you’d come to us sooner and asked for help, we probably could’ve taken the Colt and saved you.”

“I know,” she swallowed, “and saved Dean, too. I know about his deal.”

Your heart sank, and your voice became dangerously low. “And who told you that?”

“The demon that holds it. She holds mine too. She said she holds every deal,” Bela explained.

“She?”

“Her name’s Lilith.”

‘Fabulous,’ you thought. “Lilith? Why should I believe you?” you spat.

“You shouldn’t, but it’s the truth.” “This can't help you; not now. Why’re you telling me this?” you questioned.

“Because just maybe you can kill the bitch,” she replied, voice holding her usual charm for the first time during your call with her. “Tell Dean I’ll see him soon.”

Taking in a shuddering breath, you said, “See you around, Abby,” and hung up the phone.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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inotakumagf · 1 day ago

Text

persephone’s descent

✶ gojo satoru x persephone!reader

word count ✺ 2.7K

summary ✺ no one knows what truly happened to persephone when hades dragged her down to his realm. no one’s even heard of the demigod who made the tedious journey to save her.

warning ✺ i don’t haaate the story of hades and persephone i just hate how modern interpretations of the myth make demeter out to be a crazy woman who is “ruining” their love & hades is somehow the nicest guy who has done no wrong ever when the homeric hymn to demeter makes my heart break. i like different retellings where it is more of a love story, but in the og myth he did kidnap her & force her to stay with him against her will. im gonna shut up now otherwise i’d go on and on if i had my way lol. also like i mentioned in the poll zeus is very much NOT your father in this 👍 i hope you enjoy, please reblog/comment i’d love to hear ur thoughts!

No one ever cares about your side of the story.

The tale of Persephone and Hades has been retold and romanticized a thousand times over, and each time it strays farther and farther from the truth. It becomes a love story about Hades’ adoration of Persephone, and their fight against her crazy mother’s attempts at keeping the two star-crossed lovers apart. Persephone becomes a doting wife and the millitant queen of the Underworld. Her kidnapping turns into a misunderstanding of the love Hades has for her. Or worse, some myth retellings claim that Persephone herself tricked Hades into taking her down below to his realm.

That’s not what happened. As if you’d ever go anywhere with him willingly.

You’d never invited Naoya’s attention, not once. He wasn’t even supposed to make his ascension to the mortal realm. But he’d seen you bathing in moonlight from beneath his helm of darkness, watching as you flourish a field of irises. He’d been so taken by your beauty, eyes dragging along where moonshine reflected off of your skin. He decided then that he had to have you, and he dragged you down, down, down to his decaying realm. Away from your home, away from your mother, and away from all that you hold dear.

Demeter had sensed the loss of your presence the moment you disappeared down into the cavernous Underworld. It felt like your life had slipped away from her that day. You find out later that she had punished the Earth for your loss, as she caused crops to wither and vegetation to rot with each passing day.

You know she would have come for you herself if she could, but Zeus has long since forbidden the major Gods from acting directly against one another. Of course, being kidnapped by an Olympian God is not enough reason for him to intervene on your behalf, since you’re no major God yourself.

In your immortal life, it’s impossible to remember how much time goes by in mortal standards, and it’s even harder to keep track in the Underworld. You spend most of your hours, days, maybe even years trapped in your cave of a room. You spend every second clawing and screaming against the rock walls, making sure Naoya has not a moment of peace from you.

He is easy to anger, and you’ve caused a nasty frown to grace his face anytime he looks at you. Still, he decides that he must show off his prize to his loyal court, because how many people can say they’ve captured the Goddess of nature? He has you sit on a smaller throne beside his own as he entertains members of his court. And of course, he is always offering you food. Everything from juicy pomegranate seeds to jeweled berries to plump poultry.

Naoya must think you’re an idiot, as if you don’t know the one rule a visitor must remember when passing through the Underworld. Even to a God, the food will hold a piece of your soul hostage, as if tying you to the ground below. As a God, you don’t need food to survive, so all his obvious attempts are shot down. But you do need ambrosia and nectar from time to time, and you refuse to let him see how the deprivation of Godly food is getting to you.

You’re nursing a growing headache thanks to Naoya’s constant attention and the lack of ambrosia as you watch courtiers you hardly recognize kneel before the dais you sit on. They each have a ridiculously intricate gift for Naoya as they beg for his help with an idiotic political or social issue for their oh-so-gracious king to solve. Naoya asks for your input from time to time, not because he actually cares, but because he finds your growing annoyance hilarious.

A spirit bows in front of you on the dais. “Oh great King. I stand before you to ask you for your words of advice. You see, I have been in love with a woman for years. But it seems as though her heart has been captured by another man, and I believe she may marry him. How can I reunite with my beloved?”

Naoya taps his fingers against the bone of his throne’s armrest. “Hm. It seems you have quite the predicament. What do you think, darling dearest?”

You rub your fingers into your throbbing temple, muffling a groan of boredom. “Everyone gets their heart broken all the time. If you couldn’t tell this woman you loved her before she fell in love with the other man, maybe that’s your own fault. It’s not my problem, so why do I have to listen to your pathetic chatter?”

Naoya cackles loudly, pounding his fist against his throne’s armrest. “Aren’t you a romantic? Well, there’s your answer, lad.”

Naoya motions for the spirit to leave so that the next person can have their turn. But the spirit doesn’t budge.

“I never said she was in love with this man.”

Before you can ask what he means, the spirit throws off the raggedy cloak from his shoulders. As he does so, his form flickers until it solidifies into warm, solid flesh. You gasp. With the hood of the cloak no longer hiding the man, you instantly recognize his soft, white hair and piercing blue eyes as they meet your own.

Naoya bellows, “What is this? A live mortal in my realm? I should have you strung and castrated, so that you may truly belong here, boy.”

Gojo Satoru points a long finger at Naoya in accusation. “You will release the Goddess of nature at once, or I’ll be forced to destroy you.”

Naoya nearly falls over in laughter. “Oh, I will, will I? And who do you think you are, speaking to the God of the Underworld like that?”

Satoru straightens his back so that he appears taller, and if you didn’t know who he was you would have thought he was a God himself. “I am Gojo Satoru, son of Zeus and champion of Nike. I act on behalf of Demeter, who demands you return her daughter, or else the destruction she has caused to the world above will continue to spread down until she destroys every corner of your so-called kingdom until there is nothing left of it.”

You don’t doubt Satoru’s ability to defeat Naoya, but the God just laughs in his face. That is, until the demigod pulls out his sword. You’ve never seen this weapon of his before. It’s so sharp, you swear you can actually see it cut the air into slivers. If you could guess, the weapon looks a lot like the work of Hephaestus himself.

Satoru extends the weapon, pointing it directly at Naoya. “No? Then I will fight you and return the Goddess to her rightful home.”

Naoya steps carefully off of his throne, unsheathing his Stygian blade. It’s an impressive, obsidian sword, but it dwarfs in comparison to Satoru’s weapon.

Naoya hardly takes a step towards Satoru before the demigod has repositioned himself to the right, slashing his silver blade against the God of the Dead’s shoulder. Naoya blocks the attack, just barely. Their fight picks up after the first blow; Gojo presses his attacks forward in order to force Naoya to default to defensive blocks. Gojo’s strikes are fast and hard, constantly pushing Naoya back. He catches Naoya off guard, slashing his sword against the God’s face.

Naoya screams. “You insolent bastard. I’ll kill you for this.”

Satoru tucks his sword into its sheath. You want to scream at him to pull the damn weapon back out, but he just smirks at Naoya. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

He blasts a massive ball of electricity at Naoya, and you can taste the crackle of lightning on your tongue at the force of his power. It causes the cavernous roof above Naoya to crumble upon him. You know it won’t kill or even harm him all that much, but it will distract him for a few minutes.

Satoru leaves Naoya under the rubble to leap onto the dais. He cups his hand against your cheek and soothes his thumb across your face. “Are you alright, my rose?”

You press a shaky hand over his own. “I’m okay. Are you really here, Satoru?”

He laughs lightly, and you’ve never been happier to hear the sweet sound. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You blink in disbelief. “Because I’ve dreamt of this every night.”

His smile sobers up into a concerned furrow of his brow, cradling your face in order to press a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes flutter at the warmth of his lips.

“I’m here,” he promises. His larger hand presses yours against his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat. You love the speed of his heart, it’s just so unlike your own, so human. “But we really should leave before he collects himself, don’t you think, my rose?”

He takes you by your hand and pulls you deeper into the Underworld, until you stand before a tunnel that looks to lead up. Satoru ushers you ahead of him, keeping a hand at the small of your back.

“An exit?” You ask, turning to face the demigod. “How on Earth did you find this?”

He grins. “Courtesy of the Messenger God. Even the Underworld gets deliveries.”

You frown. “Hermes just…told you about this?”

“For a price” he says, winking. Your stomach flutters at his casual flirtation.

A loud roar behind you caused your heart rate to spike. It’s easy to guess that Naoya has escaped, and the shout sounds entirely too close for your comfort.

Satoru rushes ahead of you, pulling you along behind him as he leads you away from Naoya’s realm as fast as he can. He leads you further up and up, not turning back as he hastens his pace.

You stumble on the rough path, and Satoru looks back immediately, grasping you in his arms. “We can’t stop. Come, let me carry you.”

He sweeps you off your feet, and you have to clasp your arms around his neck to keep stable. You laugh into his neck as his hair tickles your cheek.

The ascension is long, but Satoru doesn’t falter once. He just holds you tighter against him. When you're out on the surface, you suck in a breath as you finally see the night sky again. Satoru lets you down gently, and you crouch down to run your fingers through the dry, cold ground until lush grass and baby blue flowers sprout beneath your fingers. Tears fall from your eyes in joy. You’re home.

You straighten out, leaping right into Satoru’s arms. Without hesitation, he lifts you and spins you around. You can’t help but laugh in pure joy. Your arms wrap around your lover’s neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss. He deepens it easily, pressing himself against you. Your hands splay over his smooth cheeks, running your fingers over the smile stretching across his face. You nuzzle your nose against his, staring into his eyes as though you might slip away again. Something crackles behind you.

You don’t need to turn to know that your mother has arrived. You can feel her presence as if you share the same heartbeat. Satoru lets go of you so that you can hug her. You nearly sob at the feeling of her warm embrace. Demeter hugs you so tightly that you think you’d choke if you needed air like a mortal. She pulls back to stare at you, cupping your chin in her hand.

“My daughter has been rightly returned,” she announces on the breeze. You know her words will carry around the Earth, until the land prospers once more.

Demeter turns to Satoru. “Thank you, son of Zeus. You will be rewarded for your bravery. I can give you jewels, or a kingdom, or the strength of a thousand men.”

Satoru shakes his head. “I have no need for any of those material desires, My Lady.”

Demeter raises a brow. Knowing your mother, she might decide to smite him on the spot. You lay a hand on her shoulder and beg, “Please, mother.”

Demeter sighs at your pouting face. She scowls at Satoru, but she makes no move to kill him as of right now, which is good news. “Fine. What is it that you want, demigod?”

Satoru kneels before the two of you, dipping his head low. You are used to this reverence of his, but it makes you blush to see him like this after so long apart. “If I may ask, Lady Demeter, for one wish, it would be for you to allow me to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widen at the statement. Satoru’s head is bowed, and you can’t see his face. All you want right now is to see his face.

As if reading your mind, Satoru looks up at you. His eyes find yours, staring at you with love that you know your face reflects back. You want to kneel into the soft dirt in front of him. You want to touch, to hold him. You want.

Demeter hums. “Dangerous, son of Zeus, to wish for such a thing. Do you know what you’re asking me?”

Satoru’s eyes never leave yours. “Yes, I do.”

“So you know that you are a mortal, asking to marry a Goddess that will outlive you by ions, lifetimes. You know that Naoya will curse you for such mockery of his power. You will live and die painfully, and your afterlife will be full of eternal suffering. You will never see the gates of Elysium, if Naoya can help it.”

“I know,” Satoru repeats. “And I accept my fate, as long as I can spend the rest of my life at the Goddess’s feet. Even when I die a mortal death, I will love and worship her from beyond my grave, endlessly. This is the fate that I want.”

Demeter considers him, for a moment. You know your mother, and you know the exact moment she makes her decision. Tears pool in your eyes. She looks at Satoru, who is staring at you. She looks at you, staring right back at Satoru.

“I will not grant you this.” For the first time, Satoru’s attention snaps to your mother. His eyebrows quiver, and his mouth softens into a pout.

“Please,” he says softly.

She glances at you, and you turn to see the mischievous glint in her eyes. “No, I cannot fulfill this request. If you wish to marry my daughter, that is a gift she must grant you. But I will give you a gift of my own choosing.”

She holds her open palm to Satoru, and a golden apple materializes in her hand. This, you were not expecting from your mother at all. You both know what this represents. Immortality. Godhood. You stare at Satoru, and he stares up at you.

Your mother becomes impatient. “Well, son of Zeus? What will it be?”

He takes your hands in his own. “My rose. I cannot offer you a kingdom or power like Naoya can. I am a mere breath in your presence. But I can offer you my whole and true love. I can promise that I will always serve you, loyally. As your husband, and as your humble servant. Will you allow me the pleasure of marrying you?”

He barely finishes by the time you throw yourself at him, nodding emphatically and you press kisses all over his face. Your knees are dirtied by the soft ground, but you don’t care when Satoru’s entirety surrounds you. You inhale deeply, pressing your nose into his skin. He cradles your cheek in his warm palm, pulling away so that he can admire you.

“My Goddess,” he murmurs.

Demeter grumbles and you can practically hear the roll of her eyes. “Lovesick fools. Aphrodite certainly had her fun with you two.”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk x reader #mywriting

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 day ago

Note

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" I imagine this as Sebastian saying it to Reader. But the thought of the reader saying it to Sebastian after he wakes from a night terror (in this scenario, they have escaped Urbanshade) is very sweet to me

True to their word, they got you out.

You and Sebastian were finally free from Urbanshade's horrors.

Innovation Inc. managed to extract enough data from all the loose assets you've given to him to formulate an escape plan.

Thank god you have connections to the labs, otherwise you would have been just as doomed as any other EXR-P.

But you were more relieved that Sebastian didn't have to stay trapped in that place anymore. He didn't have to move from place to place and fight to survive constantly.

Even better?

There was actually a way for him to become human again.

Urbanshade deemed him too far gone in his mutation to reverse the countless painful surgical processes they put him through....but they were nothing but liars who didn't see the point of investing in the resources needed.

They could have done it all along.

Innovation, on the other hand, got every bit of data on the experiments that they needed, going right to work on him as soon as you both arrived to the labs.

Obviously, he resisted at first...as all the trauma he experienced from before didn't go away instantly.

He was afraid of another surgery, being touched and injected with foreign substances and restrained. Not to mention the heavily potent anesthesia he needed since he's developed such a strong immunity to it.

But you convinced him that if he hoped to become human--he needed this.

It took a week or two, with him being in and out of the operating room and you trying to pass the time by chatting with your colleagues about exposing Urbanshade's secrets to the world..but eventually they did it.

They gave him legs again. HIs ear fins were now back to being human ears--and anything else that made him look like an anglerfish was removed and replaced with stitched flesh. His third arm was amputated but preserved for future study.

Somehow, they even got his size to shrink. No longer was he a gigantic beast, but instead an actual human-sized person who got to sleep on the bed beside you.

The only things left of his previous self were some of his sharp teeth (which he didn't mind keeping) and his skin still bearing a somewhat light blue tint to it, although it was not as pale.

It was incredible.

He cried the first time he saw himself.

He felt..human, again. And you were happy for him.

Although...

While he was getting better physically, no amount of surgeries would be able to get rid of the emotional pain Urbanshade and the criminal justice system had put him through.

From getting an unjust sentence for something he didn't even do to screaming in horror at his monstrous reflection for the first time...all of those events still like to replay in his mind.

Not to mention he conditioned himself into never letting his guard down for any reason.

He'd wake up if he heard somebody so much as cough in the next room or squeak their shoes a little too loudly.

While the hardest part was over, it was still going to be a long and agonizing recovery process for him.

Tonight, however, Sebastian was sound asleep, whereas you were sitting at the nearby desk, pencil scratching at the notebook in your hand. You were just trying to brainstorm ways to get Painter and Eyefestation out and away from the Blacksite.

Of course those two were nothing short of a nuisance during your many runs to escape with the Crystal...but Sebastian considered them friends, as they were the only ones who could communicate with him and never tried eating him. So you did feel a little bad for leaving them behind.

You were sure Eyefestation was put out of her misery, knowing that she couldn't swim very far up due to the pressure changes in the ocean--plus she wasn't willing to let go of her vendetta against humans.

Innovation could very easily turn her into a normal shark again who could still speak telepathically...but they couldn't cure her hatred.

For all you know, she could want to kill Sebastian now simply because he was (mostly) back to being human.

Painter, on the other hand, could have escaped with you if you had more time. He deserved a better life besides wasting away mining robux and being tethered to the IDS. He always talked about Sebastian's promise to get him out, too, so you wondered if he felt betrayed and lied to...

Until you recently learned that Innovation figured out a way to communicate with him and help throw more dirt on Urbanshade via an encrypted channel. So there was a chance his AI could be transferred over to this facility if his physical body was destroyed.

That gave you hope to see him again.

But until then, they told you to look after Sebastian, and that was fine by you. He was all you cared about right now.

"GAH!"

Snapping your head over, you could see the man jolt upright all of the sudden, eyes wide as he clutched at his chest, breathing hard. You noticed the sweat dampening the front of his shirt, and closed your book. "Seb?"

"Shit. I was...am I...a-am I still...?" He mumbled to himself, bringing a trembling hand to his forehead, before he squeezed his eyes shut. "Please don't be there..please, please, please, god.."

To his relief, he felt nothing but the tiny bumps that formed a stitch beneath his black bangs. But even so, his fingers kept grazing over his skin and ears, wanting to be certain those things weren't there anymore.

"It's okay. You're still at Innovation. My buddies got rid of them."

Feeling the mattress dip, Sebastian looked to see you sitting on the bed, too. You looked concerned, but not overly worried--as this has become a rather normal occurrence ever since he finished those rounds of surgeries.

"I know that, but..I've had them for a long time." He lightly scoffed, trying to calm himself down, but you could tell he was still shaking and very overwhelmed by his nightmare, tears stinging his eyes. "I..I-I can't just...forget about it like it never happened, you know. Like those bastards didn't.....gh.."

He got choked up, and you opened your arms to him, waiting to see if he was willing to accept your offer. Being a giant anglerfish, he never wanted anybody to touch him, and you understood perfectly why.

So for him to curl up into your embrace was a bit of a surprise, but you held him closely; not too tightly so he was uncomfortable, of course. "I won't let anyone hurt you. You're safe with me." You consoled, feeling him rest his head on your shoulder, sniffling quietly.

A few tears dampened your sleeve, but you didn't mind them.

It made you realize that he probably took his humanity for granted--now there was no longer a huge size difference between you two.

Ever since escaping the blacksite, he's become a bit more attached to you, wanting to constantly be near you. Even back then, he's been friendlier to you than most expendables.

He'd never outright say your presence comforts him. But you could tell through the small gestures and "exceptions" he makes for you that you're the only good thing to enter his life at Urbanshade.

"You're okay, Seb. We're both okay now."

"Y-Yeah, I know..I know.." He muttered, slowly trying to wriggle out of the hug, to which you let him go and allowed him to sit up. "Sorry you gotta put up with me being like this. Thought I would've been over it by now.."

Despite his words, he was still physically shaken up, the nightmares not so easily leaving his mind.

"There's no rush to "get over" any of this." You frowned a little, putting your hand on top of his as a comforting gesture. "I sure as hell haven't. Every time I think I can get some sleep, I find myself getting chased by those stupid mutant fish over and over again.."

Sebastian just scoffed. "You think being chased by one is bad? Try becoming one and having to live through-"

But he stopped himself after seeing the look on your face, as well as you removing your hand and getting up. "Sorry. I'll..get you some water-"

"No. Don't leave. Please."

You blinked in surprise as he grabbed at the hem of your shirt with lightning speed, although when he realized you were staring...he quickly let go and coughed awkwardly into his fist.

"I know I'm not the only one who went through some messed up shit. I don't know how you dealt with it."

"What?"

"..dying over and over again. I would've gone fucking insane if I had to live through that."

"Well, I almost did...but it was worth it. Because we're both free now." You offered him a reassuring smile. "And technically Painter, too. We'll have to talk to him sometime."

"Yeah? Think he'd wanna chat with me after I basically lied to him?" He muttered, sounding uncertain. "I promised him that we would get out. And he could paint all the landscapes he wanted to."

"My colleagues are still figuring out how to unhook him from the IDS without further corrupting him, but they're making good progress. He'll be on his own little computer in here in no time."

"That's good. I just hope he can forgive me. I really only asked him to stall.."

"I'm sure he'd understand, Seb." With a sigh, you picked up your book. "He knows we're safe and he's giving Innovation whatever they need. So I wouldn't worry."

Sebastian simply nodded, looking to his hands--specifically to the ring imprint that was still on one of his fingers, frowning a little as he stared at it.

Even though his humanity was restored, he had already been declared dead a long time. Everyone he knew and loved was convinced that he was a guilty man who deserved execution. It didn't matter if they caught the actual criminal or not.

He just couldn't return to normal life after all he's been through. After all he's seen.

No.

But he could start over with you.

It was funny to think that you were once an expendable prisoner he glossed over, assuming you just wanted to buy his wares and march onwards to your next death--to which he'd laugh in your face and show you the document you already had memorized.

Now, you were the only person he could trust. The only person he was willing to be vulnerable around.

Because you helped free him.

You were the reason he was able to become human again.

#clanask #roblox x reader #roblox pressure x reader #pressure x reader #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #human sebastian x reader #angst/fluff prompt #hurt/comfort

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rini-rushed · 18 hours ago

Text

english kinda sucks.

☆ rin x reader! (gender not mentioned)

★ crack? idk im smokin /j | reader might be illiterate (LIKE ME IN JP) | already in relastionhip B)

notes: (rin might be ooc D:) i go to a jp/en bilingual school as an english strong student so idk i thought i'd have fun + this is inspired by the infamous EN additional time :P

sypnosis -> learning english after the age of six kinda sucks, having to actually learn the grammar.. but you know what's almost as bad as english grammar?

発音 (PRONOUNCIATION.)

your eyebrows bunched together, your pouty lips now just frowning in distaste at the english letter written out for you by your boyfriend.

meanwhile he's sitting beside you with his legs crossed together, looking at your fidgeting pen and confused look on your face, rin had already gone through this before, since he was going to be at the top of the soccer world of course.

after another minute of you butchering the pronunciation of "th", rin takes the pencil from your fingers and points the lead at the words he had written, turning to look at you, you catch eye contact with him.

he looks at the three words, pointing at each one, in the order he wrote it, rin proceeds to carefully pronounce to you, and you drunk in his slightly accented voice. what a cutie.

"through"

"though"

"thought"

...

maybe his voice wasn't as cute when he pronounced these words and despite looking VERY similar, sounded very different and even meanr very different things...

and what does he mean one's a prepozishun, another is a naon, and that last one is a conjuhkushon...??? whatever those are supposed to be..

"ehhh... threuw?"

you felt like an infant, trying your hardest to try and annunciate these confusing and annoying words.

the little accent in your voice that bled through your voice as you put in so much effort into trying to say these words correctly, it was really amusing to rin.

to him, these words were easy to say, easy to spot, easy to use. but seeing you put in so much effort was adorable to say the least.

"through" he echoes your words with more certainty and accuracy.

you scrunched up your face at the correction, and just went to the next word.

"..dough.."

"though" rin reads, you shoot him a small side glance at how close you were.

you were bit more happy that you got this one a lot better than the last, barely off, you were motivated to try again.

...

"...though."

you turned your head towards rin with an expectant look, the look in your eyes screamed "tell me i'm right".

though his facial expression didn't beam with gladness at you finally getting it correct, it's still rin itoshi afterall, but you could see a small glimmer of pride that dotted itself into the teal sea of ethereality that swam in scleras of your boyfriend's features.

"good job. took you long enough." he complimented, but deep rooted in that bored sounding tone, you knew he was happy to see you overcome.

rin then narrow his eyes slightly, moving his pencil over, making your eyes follow with his movements.

ruining your nice moment, "now this one." he speaks in english, you frown.

rin only watches as you struggle to differentiate 'though' and 'through', it's entertaining to watch, but next to him you were merely being sulky.

all with a single thought going through your head, though you agreed with yourself completely, you like spending time with your boyfriend.

'man, english kinda sucks.'

~ rini writes ~

#whatthefuckdidijustwrite

#anotherbadendingsobsob

#thistookmeeversincenov17becauseikeptabandoningit

tags: @mininji @tofumiarchives @atlas-atlantic @wabatle @biggestcharleskinnie

@rinitoshiplzdateme @fishii-writes @reapkusho @tired-xyra-urstruly

IM SORRY FOR TAGGING YOU GUYS AGAIN AND AGIANAINS...

tried to keep it to rin fans but fumi/atlas

#bllk #blue lock #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #★ rin itoshi #rin itoshi #bllk x you #bllk x reader #★ rini's writing

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featherandferns · 10 hours ago

Text

day 1/24 - obx christmas countdown

'I want you to know that I'm never leaving' - Sia, Snowman | angst-fluff | jj x fem!reader | keep track of the obx christmas countdown here!

You stir in the night cocooned in blankets. Groaning, you blink yourself awake and squint at the bedside table's alarm clock. The glaring digital letters read three a.m. With another grunt, you roll over and kick off some of the covers. As your eyes slip shut, your body moves to snuggle into JJ’s like a reflex. You always slept on the left of the small double and him on the right. More times than not, you’d end up with all the covers and him with none, but considering he ran like a boiler engine, it didn’t much bother him. But when your hand reaches out to splay on his warm bareback, you frown and open your eyes at the feel of soft cotton sheets. Weird.

You shove the rest of the sheets off you with a huff. Kildare was warm enough during the days of December so long as you had a hoodie to hand, but at night, when the sun went to sleep, it cooled off. As you step across the creaking floorboards, you grab JJ’s hooded flannel and tug it on as an extra layer. The old house warns of your coming: aching doors and whining floors. It’s dark as you venture through the halls until there’s a cosy golden glow from the living room. One of the lamps is on. You poke your head into the room to find JJ staring out the window into the thick of the night.

“Hey,” you broach quietly. He doesn’t jump. He must have heard you coming.

“Hey,” he replies, just as quiet, not bothering to turn. You make your way over and take a seat by his side on the coach. The sleepiness still lingers in your bones so you rest your head against his arm.

“How come you’re awake?” you wonder through a yawn.

“Jus’ thinkin’,” he murmurs. Something about the way he says it tells you it isn’t entirely peaceful thoughts. It feels too early to pry and too late to question. You know JJ as well as any Christmas carol; he’ll tell you when he’s ready. “I hate Christmas, y’know?”

“Does one of the J’s in your name stand for Scrooge?” you try to joke. He chuckles silently, his body shaking softly against your cheek. The skin of his arm smells like shea butter soap and sandalwood. “I didn’t know you hated Christmas.”

“Not as much anymore. Just when I was a kid. Reminded me of all the stuff I didn’t have. I don’t know…Guess it made me angry,” JJ drawls. “I mean, you know that I didn’t have all that much growing up. Dad was never around and never made much effort. It just sort’a ended up being another day. Except…”

“Except it wasn’t?” you offer when his voice trails off. He hums. You nod.

It’s hard to pass Christmas off as any other day when everything around you is screaming about how it’s so wonderful. The songs, the adverts, the windows, the houses, the movies, the people…All of it. It’s like insisting that you’re not hot whilst staring directly into the sun.

“And I would just count down the days until it was January again and everyone would just shut the fuck up about it, y’know?”

You hum. He sighs and you glance up to see him hang his head. His blonde hair is shaggy from sleep and dangles in front of his eyes. Sitting up, you reach out a hand and comb it back for him. JJ’s eyes are heavy with tiredness when he looks at you.

“We don’t gotta do anything for Christmas,” you tell him. Nodding your head towards the hall, at the other bedrooms, you add, “the others can do whatever they want but we can just do our own thing.”

JJ shakes his head, smiling smally. “You love Christmas.”

“Meh. I love lots of things,” you shrug with a smile and roll of your eyes. It was true, you did love Christmas, but you loved JJ far, far more. If celebrating was going to remind him of bitter days then you were more than happy to sit it out together. But JJ shakes his head again.

“We don’t gotta skip it,” he tells you. Your brows tug together. He still sounds deflated, losing his usual glow like a crack in the most stunning tree bauble you’ve ever seen. It must be easy to read on your face, the concerned curiosity. Shaking his head, he looks back out the window. He rakes his hands through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Maybe. Tell me anyway.”

Laughing quietly, he takes a breath and closes his eyes. “I…I’m scared to celebrate Christmas with you.”

You frown and try your best not to be offended. “Oh?”

“I just…God, how do I fuckin’ use words…" JJ sighs again, aggravated, and rubs at his forehead. Then, he looks down at you. The anxiety in his eyes makes you want to cry. “Christmas didn’t mean anything to me until you showed up. And now that we’re finally a...we...Well, I guess I’m scared to actual enjoy Christmas cause what if it goes back to being just another day?"

You try to follow his words like footprints in snow. Nodding slowly, you think aloud. “So you’re saying, what if you let yourself enjoy it, and then we don’t make it, and you have memories about Christmas that are actually happy?”

Laughing, he smiles, shaking his head, a little disbelieving. “You can always read my Goddamn mind.” But the smile slips away into sadness. Tears rush to his waterline and your heart cracks. You’ve never heard his voice so feeble, so raw, when he admits, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your joy at cracking the riddle is short lived. Sitting up onto your knees, you reach for JJ’s hand and take it in yours. You squeeze, hard. “You're not going to lose me. I’m never leaving, a’right? Ever.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, likely willing the tears away. “You don’t know that. Everybody leaves eventually."

“Hey,” you say, firmly, forcing his eyes open into yours. Nodding, sincerely, you affirm, “I mean it. I’m never leaving. You’re my home, JJ. All seasons round - not just Christmas.”

The moment wraps around you like a blizzard. Your smile is shaky, eyes damp, voice thick as you confide in him. “You’re all I have too, JJ. The only thing that matters to me. The only thing that I truly, deeply, love.”

JJ exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a lifetime. His forehead gently bumps yours as he dips it. “What’d I do to get you?”

Smiling, you lift a hand to cup his jaw. On your thumb that rests on his cheek you feel a teardrop. You wipe it away. Nobody else saw this side of JJ. The quiet, tender, vulnerable side. The times that the child that hid inside of him, safe from his father’s reprimanding hand, crawled out into the glow of moonlight. You’d never let that privilege be forgotten. Pressing a kiss against his lips, short and sweet like peppermint candy, you shrug.

“I think I'm the one that’s got the best gift of all.”

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samandcolbyownme · 2 days ago

Note

Cherry Red:

In which Tara becomes obsessed with a new lipstick color on your neck. (making out, partying, alcohol - the typical stuff - just nothing beyond making out)

Warnings: swearing, partying, alcohol, girlxgirl make out, Tara x fem!reader, spicy fluff

Word Count: 780 | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ༝༚༝༚ ⋅⋆ ───

You were excited for this party, but for one reason, and one reason only.

Tara Yummy.

As soon as you crossed the threshold of the club, a smile grew on your face as you seen Tara.

“Y/n!” She yells, hurrying over to pull you into a hug, “You’re here!”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late, I-“ you stop, tilting your head, “Are you drunk already?” You laugh as she nods, “Yeah, and we have to get you caught up. Come on.”

She takes your hand into hers, and pulls you through the crowd of people to the bar. From that point on, you were attached at the hip.

“Tequila shots please.”

“Oh, Tara. Tequila? To start my night?” You pretend to pout but you smile as she lays a hand on your cheek, “You’ll be fine.”

Her brows furrow, “What shade of lipstick is that?”

“It’s called Cherry Red.” You smirk, “Do you want some? I brought it with.”

“Oh my god, yes please. I’m obsessed, it looks so good on you!” She watches as you pull the tube from your small purse and she puckers her lips.

You smile as you uncap it, leaning in to press the colored stick against her lips and drag. You tilt your head, eyes flicking from hers back to her lips, “This color looks so pretty on you.”

“You’re too sweet!” She turns as the bartender sets down the small glasses and you step forward, taking yours as she hands it to you, “For you.”

“For me.” You laugh, “Alright. Here to..”

“Us.” She winks and wraps her arm around yours and you both take your shots.

The first shot was rough, but after a few, you were loosening up pretty good.

You were on the dance floor, Tara right next to you.

You smiled as you scream out the song lyrics with her, holding her hand above her head as she spun around and danced with you.

“I’m going for another drink.” You point to the bar and Tara nods, “I’ll come with you!”

You lead her to the bar and after a few shots, they started tasting like you really wanted to kiss her.

Her laugh captivated you fully, her smile only made it worse. As soon as she looked at you, you went for it.

You places your hand on the side of her head, pulling her towards you as you moved in. Your lips landed on hers and it was instant sparks — Tara felt them, too.

Her hands slid down your arms from your wrist, moving to grip your hips as she pulled you closer. Your lips moved in a perfect sync and your tongues battled one another for dominance, but it was a constant fight.

Her lips trailed down your neck and she giggles as she leans back, “See.” She bites her lip as her eyes meet yours, “I told you I was obsessed with this lipstick color on you.”

You smile, shaking your head as you pull her back in for another kiss.

She trails down the other side of your neck, marking it with her Cherry Red lip prints, “Fuck, that looks so hot on you.”

“The lipstick or your kiss marks?” You tease, tilting your head as she laughs, “I mean, both, but my lips marking up your skin just come in a-“ she holds up her fingers, “Teeny bit more.”

You smile, laughing as you look around, “Let’s go back there, I’m not done kissing you yet.”

You grab your drink, as she does, and she follows you to the back corner of the room. The red lights illuminate the area around you set your drink on the table and sit down. Tara sets her down as she sits down on the couch next to you and leans over.

Your hand slides down her side, pulling her in closer as her lips move with yours once more.

You didn’t care about anything but her right now, and it was the same for her with you.

You tilt your head back as she coats your skin with more prints, giggling as she overlooks her work.

You bite your lip, reaching up to wipe beside her lips with your thumb, “Your lipstick is smudged.” She reaches up, doing the same action to you, “So is yours.”

You smirk, “It’s worth it.”

She nods, leaning in to kiss you, “So worth it.”

─── ⋆⋅ ༝༚༝༚ ⋅⋆ ───

Thank you for reading. I love you all and I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #Tara yummy #tara yummy x reader #tara yummy x you #Tara yummy fluff #tarayummy #tarayummy x you #tarayummy x reader #Tara yummy x fem!reader #fem!reader #tara yummy one shot #tara yummy blurb #tara yummy x y/n #Tara yummy fanfic #Tara yummy fanfiction

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blueberrypancakesworld · 11 hours ago

Note

Hiii! Can you do one with emperor caracalla and what he would be like as a father?? I’m in a drought of carcalla fics 😭

Emperor Caracalla as a father

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of family problems, a bit emotional, kissing

info : Anon I love you thanks for the request, Caracalla is just such a ray of sunshine he's only better as a father ;) I hope you enjoy reading and sorry for not having a cover, but today was exausting.

masterlist

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

Everything has always been ours, never his. He may have been the younger one, the one with the problems, the madness and the insufficient seriousness for politics, but that didn't mean everything had to be ours, did it?

No, it didn't have to be because where Geta was in charge of politics and dealing with the Senate, it was Caracalla whose position was used to provide an heir, a marriage to a princess only the best for the human gods. A marriage that didn't bother him a bit, he loved his wife with all his heart, from the moment he saw the golden dress, the jewelry but above all her loving nature was what had won him over.

His sun was at its greatest and the happiness of the imperial family was only surpassed when the priestess announced his wife's pregnancy...a pregnancy that would soon make him a father.

°Caracalla as a father from the moment he heard that his beloved was pregnant from him he cried, not breaking out of his madness for the first time and apologizing to her, ,,I-I...I'm responsible...as much as I'm happy...what if our child goes into madness?" a question he asked her kneeling, his head resting on her lap and his hands clutching her tunic. The moments in the here and now were hard enough and his condition touched her, her hand stroked his head and gently made him look at her, ,,Even if the gods are not merciful, Caracalla it is our child, our little one it would not change anything” she assured him and pressed a gentle kiss on his head.

°The months leading up to the moment of birth were up and down for all three of them, Caracalla getting more and more nervous, seeming to switch back and forth between delusion and his mind. His wife helped him as best she could, praying to the gods that it would not destroy him, and a Geta who took care of both of them. But from the construction of the nursery, the preparation for their birth and the cuddles, it was a time of harmony and love. Every day Caracalla put an ear to her belly laughing whenever he thought he heard something and helping his wife as much as he could, even Dundus seemed calmer and not too demanding of his owner as if they all knew what was at stake.

°The further her pregnancy progressed, the more excited he became, talking to her and his child as if it could already hear him, ,,Of course it heard us! It's a little monkey as often as it moves,” he said, kneeling in front of his wife, who was mostly still sitting or lying down because of her belly, not to mention the pain and discomfort. Whenever he saw the moving and kicking he let his hand wander over it with hers, ,,Just as excited as his father,” she said softly and gave Caracalla another reassuring kiss, giving her everything she needed, almost as excited as the child itself seemed to be...until the moment of birth.

°The late night was filled with screams, in the empress's room the midwives helping her as much as they could and outside a crying Caracalla whose worries were growing, ,,What if she dies brother? A child without a mother? It's my fault, my madness? The midwives will die if she dies” he mumbled to himself, pacing up and down, waving a sword only to throw it away, his brother's words barely calming him down. He looked as exhausted as his beloved when the door opened and he interrupted the woman, ,,Is my sun alive?” he asked ignoring his child and running to the bed, his hand seeking hers and only calming down when he saw her exhausted smile, ,,Yes...I'm alive and so is our little monkey” she said and the midwife gave her the little boy wrapped in a cloth. A little boy with his blue eyes and her hair, a little baby who smiled a smile that infected his father.

°From that moment on, he was smitten with his son, little Solis ortus, who everyone called Solis, from the Latin for sunrise. The little one was born with the sunrise and came from his mother the sun itself, he was the joy of his parents a little baby who almost always seemed too happy, ,,He is so loving...and not full of madness” Caracalla said and wiped away a few tears when he saw the now small child crawling on the floor and playing with a few small figures, ,,Yes he is perfect just like his father” his wife said and once again held his hand.

°The years passed quickly and even though the madness in him did not diminish, erupting again and again and more often, this did not even happen in front of his son, ,,Father is fine Solis don't worry” he pressed out and retreated to his chamber, where he could go about his business surrounded by swords and blood without hurting his wife or son or Geta. In the hours he was gone Geta took care of his nephew in the little free time she had to give the Empress some rest, ,,It seems there are often two to take care of,” she said, giving Geta a grateful look as she turned from her son to her husband.

°The hours with Caracalla were hours of grief and love, she held him through the madness, took the sword away from him and if he cut her, shouted at her or even hit her, she didn't hold it against him. ,,It hurts, but having you back with me again for sanity, with Solis, is more important,” she reassured him as they sat together leaning against the bed, his head against her chest, mumbling words to himself and he kissed her body apologetically and she held him. Before both parents slowly reappeared and took care of the little prince who was their pride and joy.

°Apart from the madness, Caracalla was a good father, the skills he didn't have in politics like his brother or the talent for music and writing like his wife, he made up for with fighting and wit, with understanding and love for animals. For every hour that the ever-aging Solis spent with his uncle in the senate, with his mother on the harp, he spent twice as much with his father in the arena studying and training the animals. Dundus belonged to Caracalla but Solis, at not quite ten years old, had a mature lion, the beast of a ruler, powerfull as a sun and yet always playful at heart. Solis would become the best of his parents and whenever Caracalla noticed that the madness was not in his son, he was genuinely happy and gave his wife a kiss.

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

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @somepallings , @userchai , @ohburrryoureabsolutelyridiculous

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #male x female #reader is female

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captaindibbzy · 11 hours ago

Text

In 1995 I was 5 years old, and my dad was doing a degree in electronic engineering. My house was HELLA technologically advanced. Like, I HAD a computer in 1995, at 5 years old.

It had, like 5 to 6 games on it. My dad had set it up because he was messing with all this stuff. It didn't even run windows. It was a black screen with white writing on it, and you had to navigate it with the keyboard. My Granddad had no idea what the hell it was but he very dutifully sat there while I explained to him how amazing this thing was. I loved it. I could play PuttPutt on it. It sat next to the TV in the front room.

I could go up the ladder in to the loft space where dad's man cave was and it was full of electronics and he had a computer up there (which also had games, the most important thing in the world of course) and he built very interesting thigns. He was working on a doctorate and he was working at a company as part of it. He had a TV that got cartoon network.

I got my first phone in 2001, 6 years later. We're living in a different house by this point. I also had a laptop! I was 11. Dad got it me because Windows had this thing called Word and as part of it, it had a spellchecker which would help with my dyslexia. It was THICK and HEAVY AS HELL. Hefting it around the house was ridiculously hard. The wifi was installed with a specific card that had to be fitted in to the the side of it and you had to pull out the little aerials and point them in the direction of the wifi router. My brother got one soon after me. He is 3 and a hal years younger than me. We would sit in the same room playing Half Life multiplayer in a private server (set up by my dad). He'd occasionally join and blow is both up while dressed like kermit the frog.

Six months after getting my phone I got it stolen. The replacement phone had an areal and was probably two or three years old. No games! Only phone calls and texts. I was very sad :(

At this time most people have A Computer that is the Family Computer. It's a desk top somewhere in the house that everyone can use.

When I was 14 I met my best friend. She didn't have a mobile phone. The year was 2004. Two years later I meet another good friend. They still have the Family Computer and Internet that screams down the phone line.

90's and 00's were WILD for technology.

It is wild to me how much living with modern technology has completely warped our understanding of even the recent past.

I'm reading a fic set in 1995 where the main character was obsessively refreshing his e-mail on his laptop in class. How? It sure wasn't with wifi. The first computer with wifi connectivity came out in 1999. Was he using a LAN line? Honestly, his computer is basically magic. He watches DVDs on it. DVDs weren't even commercially available until 1996 and players didn't hit the US until 1997.

The same character has a cell phone he carries around with him. I knew 1 person who had a cell phone in 1995. He was a fancy-pants lawyer and his phone was the size/weight of a brick and cost thousands of dollars. Admittedly, 1995 was a pivotal time for the cell phone industry as phones got abruptly smaller and (slightly) cheaper, but the average college student having one would still have been quite a stretch. I was in college five years later and no student I knew had one. Heck, in high school we weren't even allowed to have beepers because the administration thought the only kids who needed them were drug dealers.

Insert I-was-there-Gandalf.gff

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isattt · 10 hours ago

Text

Part 2 Warning: Suicide mention.

Tags: Haunted house, cute little ghost :3, anypov (?), yandere level: low. Theme: romance, spooky? (Not that much) Words: 1500 (~7 minutes)

<< previous | next >>

It was late at night. You laid on your bed on your side, covered under a comforting fluffy blanket and staring at nothing in particular. After everything that happened today, you could use some sleep.

Your mind swirled with thoughts about what William said about the previous tenant. The fond manner he spoke of him must have meant they were friends. To be honest, that wouldn’t be a surprise, given how friendly William is.

Despite yourself, you wondered what could have driven the man to do it. Even if you never met him, even if you never spoke a word to him, you still felt sympathy and mournful thinking about him.

The house was full of evidence of his existence, but you still wondered what kind of person he was. You wondered how he spent his free time, why his things were still here. Why would no one take them away to keep his memories intact?

The floor creaked again, interrupting your thoughts. You were used to the sounds now, but they still surprised you. They almost sounded like footsteps. You close your eyes with a lazy yawn, waiting for another day.

Another sound. But this time... it was different. It was the slow sound of the door opening. You stared at the empty doorway, your heart thudding against your ribcage at full alert. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” your thoughts scrambled, trying to come up with a way to rationalize everything. The window was open… the wind, maybe? The sounds were the same as usual. It was normal. It had to be.

... and there was nothing.

You sighed, realizing how silly you were acting. Sitting up on your bed, you turn your phone to illuminate the doorway, confirming your conclusion. Nothing was there.

“Greetings...” an icy breath trickles down your neck.

Your blood runs cold. You barely acknowledge what presence had made that sound before you scream, pulling back to turn around and face whoever it was.

“Kyaa!” the person screams too, falling back as well. It stares at you with a confused and startled face, reflecting your own surprise.

It was the same tall man you used to see in your dreams, sitting down on your bed. He was freakishly tall, even in a sitting position. His eyes were reddish and lifeless, and he had blood stains running down from his mouth and nose, stopping at his chest. His hair, which covered one side of his face, was sleek and straight, spilling down his face and coming at a stop near his shoulder. He’d look terrifying if it weren’t for his soft looking face.

A look of realization flashes on his face. “Oh.” The man says. His body sags and he averts his eyes to the ground. “I realize my mistake. Please forgive my manners... I should have expected this reaction,” He says, moving his hand to his chest in a timid gesture.

His voice was meek and apologetic, his face downcast like he was expecting to be chided harshly for a horrible misdeed.

He keeps his head low as he speaks, “Please forgive me for frightening you...”

“I have thought about showing myself during the daytime, but-”, he motions vaguely to his translucent body, “-I’m invisible under the light...”

His transparent form glowed with a soft blue light, enveloped in an ethereal mist. He wasn’t wearing any clothes, yet he did not look naked. It was almost as if his body was made of gas.

“Y-You are...” you stared at him, barely registering his words because of sheer shock, your heart still thudding against your ribcage, almost like it was going to break it. “The guy who lived here?”

“My name is Chester. It’s a pleasure to finally properly meet you,” he says, looking down at you from his enormous height with a worried and gentle face. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to do that…”

You nod quickly, “Right, so... ghosts exist... that’s great,” you say, trying to calm your nerves as best as you can. At least he doesn’t seem to want to hurt me...

He opens his mouth to speak, “I’m a spi-” he starts, but quickly, he interrupts himself, not wanting to sound too obnoxious.

His hand, that was sitting on his lap, came to his face in a timid gesture, fingers curled up slightly to half hide his own face behind his knuckles. The slight gesture made him look even more inoffensive as his eyes avoided yours. “Oh, I will only exist for around… sixty years. It’s the span of a normal life for most.” He says, suddenly remembering your question, “It’s because of how I came to die.”

Your body releases some of its tension. It was a colossal task to be comfortable with a giant bloodied man by your bed, but somehow, you were managing it. “So you get to be a ghost because... you…”

He smiles politely, happy to see you more at ease. “Not just because of that. I get to be, um… a ghost… because I passed before I was supposed to.”

“So… Is everyone supposed to die a natural death then?” You said, keeping a safe distance from the man.

He shakes his head. “I… I don’t suppose that is the case, but that was all I was told before I came back,” Chester says. His thin arm goes back to resting in his own lap as he adjusts himself on the bed. “You know… ever since I came back… I have been so cold… but you… you are so warm…”

Something clicks inside your head. You realize... the familiar cold you felt around the house... it gathered around him. “Forgive me...” He continued, “I know my presence is not pleasant... I try to avoid you most of the day to keep you warm, but...”

You stared at him, conflicted about how to feel about that fact. “So… that was you?” On one hand, he wasn’t dangerous, at least you hoped so, and the cold was… manageable, but on another hand he was a two meter tall, terrifying cryptid that liked to hang around your back. “What about William? He, more than anyone else, would be ecstatic to know he can still speak to you. He misses you… why stay around me instead?”

His demeanor falls. He looks down at his lap. “I know he does...” His body once again sags, wilting like a sad flower. “But I look like… like this. Like the day that he found me-” He sighs, “-I wouldn’t want him to experience it again... I fear he may resent me for it.”

He looks into your eyes, staying still in silence for a moment. “Do you truly think he wants to see me? Even after I made him witness something so... so horrifying? Can I really do it?”

You could only imagine how William felt. Finding a person dear to him in this state… it would be soul-crushing… Your head hangs low, thinking about what would be best in this situation. This isn’t easy on Chester either. You could feel his regret hanging heavily in the air.

“I am not sure actually…” You say, “Honestly… from the little I know about him… I don’t think he would ever resent you. But, since I can bet you know him better than I do, you should be the one to decide what you are going to do, Chester.” You say. It was weird, this feeling stirring inside you when you looked at him. You didn’t want him to feel hopeless again. “… if you decide you want it, I will try my best to help.”

He smiles widely, a creepy grin you were almost getting used to. He was a ghost, after all. No use judging him on being scary. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “You are so kind…”

He looks back at his hands, his face falling ever so slightly. “Although right now might not be the best of times… If I may be honest, I am slightly upset at William at the moment.” He shakes his head. “B-But it’s nothing, just a small unimportant thing.”

He carefully raises his ghostly hand. You feel a shiver running down your spine when it touches your shoulder. He was looking down at you through his thin bangs. You could swear he was almost pouting, like a pleading puppy. “If it wouldn’t be a bother for you… may I please stay by your side until then…? I don’t want to be alone again…”

“Man…” you let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you the ghost of a victorian child or something? No need to be so formal with me, Chester. I’m not throwing salt at you for staying at your own house.” You chuckle, hoping it will lift his mood somehow.

He cocked his head, tilting it further than most people would or could. His smile somehow got even wider, almost splitting his face in half. “You are truly a magnificent person.” He said with his soft voice, his cheeks suddenly no longer so pale.

#yandere oc #male yandere #gentlefall extra #gentlefall #yandere x reader

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systemic-dreams · 2 days ago

Text

Dragon Age rant

I need to scream into the void about Veilguard. I hate what the narrative did to Thedas and I need to be very bitter and petty about it. So here's everything wrong with Veilguard's story and why I'm being a pendant.

Have some warnings:

[LONG ASS POST WITH ANIMATED GIFS AND IMAGES]

[VEILGUARD CRITICAL]

[MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD BELOW]

For context, I am a Dragon Age Origins truther. I loved DA2 for completely different reasons and DA: Inquisition was still fun, even if the story/villain fell kinda flat. (Also Solas stole my Lavellan's eyebrows and I'm still mad about it).

The games were by no means perfect but even with all their flaws, they managed to capture the imagination and the essence of the interactive medium of videogames, giving you the freedom to role play but also replay and experience the world from a different perspective. And it would reward you for doing so. When you got to the end, you would already be thinking about your next playthrough and your next character and the decisions they would make, happy to sink another 100+ hours into the game.

Well, I finished Veilguard in around 80 hours, and by finished, I mean two complete playthroughs to make every possible decision in the game which amounted to playing the same game twice just to see if they were hiding another better game underneath the one I already played but no. I trotted up to Elger'nan and kicked his flying ass and was suddenly beset by the ‘good’ ending where Mythal absolves Solas of all his responsibilities and the Inquisitor showed up to hold hands with the Dread wolf so the pair of them could walk off into the sunset (hellish tear in the sky) together.

As a reward, I was shown a bunch of 2D title cards with one sentence summaries repeating my decisions (or lack thereof) back to me without epilogue, most of them regarding my companions. And then my Rook condescendingly told me "At their heart, stories are about change…"

But we literally didn't change anything. In fact, we fought tooth and nail to maintain the status quo (Veil). Hence, we were 'guard'ing the Veil, though we're never referred to as 'the Veilguard' ingame. If anyone was trying to change stuff it was the Evanuris or Solas or whoever. The Veilguard, specifically, were trying to stop change the whole time, from the very beginning with Varric. And we had very little choice in the matter.

AND THEN! To add insult to injury, the game shows you the briefest of cutscenes with every inciting incident from each of the previous games: Loghain retreating from Ostagar, Bertrand being driven mad by the red Lyrium idol, and the Breach that marked the Inquisitor. All of these things are surrounded by a shadowy group of people with gravelly voices who claim that they have been shaping all these events, and that they are responsible for all of it somehow. And now that the Elven gods are dead, you’ll be hearing from them. And you see the symbol for the Executors - a mysterious organisation of spies from ‘across the sea’ that don’t have much of a role in DA: Inquisition beyond some minor missions. You could easily miss them without trying.

So, great! Not only has the South of the continent been destroyed, none of what you did there mattered because the Illuminati were secretly behind everything the whole time. And you’ve left yet another game on a cliffhanger. This, being the culmination of at minimum twenty plus hours of game time and cutscenes during which you have to sit back and watch this trainwreck of a story unfold, unable to do anything about it because they took away player agency in a role playing game. The only decision you make is whether you participate, or not. And the game punishes you for not slogging through all of its content with character death and faction failure in the finale if you didnt get the right number of friendship points.

I think that in a kinder world where this game did not use the Dragon Age brand or setting, and simply did the whole ‘my first queer high fantasy rated T for Teen’ dance, I would probably forgive most of its trespasses and move on with my life, but that’s not what happened.

Veilguard took on the incredibly daunting task of living up to the Dragon Age name and the expectations that come with it, especially after the pitfalls of Inquisition. It wasn’t going to be easy - incorporating all the dense lore and beloved characters and hitting that grimdark yet hopeful tone of the setting while allowing for a breadth of decisions to have been made and to be made and to have a genuine impact on the story in a satisfying way.

It was unlikely they would hit the nail on the head but it wasn't impossible. And Dragon Age fans were rooting for it to come through, grasping at every whisper of Dread Wolf that never amounted to anything but title cards. And after Anthem bombed and Bioware scrapped Dragon Age: Dread Wolf, I kind of gave up hope. I think a lot of fans did. But then… a miracle! Trailers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard! And people accusing the game of ‘woke’.

For a moment, I actually believed. That our prayers to the Maker (Bioware) had been answered.

However, instead of fulfilling our wildest dreams, Veilguard dropped a cheap sanitized mockery of the franchise into our laps, sacrificing all the complexity, nuance and moral ambiguity of the Dragon Age we’ve come to know. All for an uninspired Marvel B-movie plot full of holes and inconsistencies, and worst of all, it took meaningful player choice out of the game in order to spoon-feed its watered down gruel to the masses, alienating a lot of loyal fans in order to pivot and appeal to an entirely different demographic while keeping the name Dragon Age for marketing purposes. In short - a study in enshittification.

So let’s go back to the beginning.

And the Maker said, “Let there be Character Creation.”

This is a fun opportunity to create a little person and inject them into the game as an avatar of your id - role play, as they say. Some of your choices are purely cosmetic since the Dragon Age setting doesn't really care about your gender or the colour of your skin (yay). This has been true since the first title released in 2009 - a time when the videogame scene was brewing gamergate and having more than one gender (voice actor) was a privilege not many developers could afford.

In contrast, Dragon Age: Origins had not only 2 genders, 3 classes and 6 playable origins, but same sex romance options and complex bi characters (of wildly varying quality). And the game was received quite well, with great reviews and much acclaim. It invited women and those in the queer community to peer into the cishet male-dominated world of AAA gaming and high fantasy with an opportunity to be represented. And no one vilified Bioware for ‘woke’. On the contrary, people flocked to see the dodgiest jankiest cringiest sex scene known to man starring their self insert.

So all the character customisation that the new game allows you to do, from top surgery scars, to bulge size and choice of pronouns, really shouldn’t matter to any of the old Dragon Age fans. This is just icing on a cake that lets you make your usual white human Gary Defaultman look however manly you wish, and all the companions will fall at his feet (which wasn't true in previous games).

But I digress.

While Dragon Age is unconcerned with gender and skin colour save what some writers might tell you on Twitter, DA is concerned about your Race and Class. To the point where non-human species such as elf, dwarf, and later - qunari, would have drastically different experiences based on the racial prejudices of the world. As they would in real life. For this reason, Backgrounds were locked to specific Races or Classes. And DA2 completely locked you into a Human hero due to time constraints in development. In Inquisition, we returned with the added opportunity to create Qunari (Kisoth) characters and the Inquisitor's race coloured the experience to some extent but not as much as Origins did:

You couldn’t be a Dwarf and a Mage for example because Dragon Age dwarves can't do magic. In fact, they are resistant to it. This is one facet of the lore that thankfully carries over to Veilguard, mostly to boost Harding’s ego and uniqueness but that little lock on the character creation screen seems foreboding for future titles.

However, the rest of the lore goes out the window as soon as you finish playing plastic surgeon.

You choose your Race, Class, and then your Background using the same time honoured formula, except in Veilguard, you can be pretty much any Race, Class and Background combo, which should be good, right? Inclusive and awesome?

Well, it would be if the associated Factions were the kind any person could join. Something like the Order of Grey Wardens who accept everyone regardless of race, class, etc. The Lords of Fortune Background also makes sense since they’re treasure hunting mercenary pirates, not super picky about their initiates. But the rest?

If you choose, for example, the Mourn Watch faction - an order of mages that fill a niche somewhere between Exorcist and Ghostbuster - but you don’t choose Mage as your Class, how did you join the Mourn Watch exactly? Buy a proton pack?

Nevermind the highly elite status of the Watchers in the Mortalitasi and their secret puppeteering of the Nevarran King. Did Vorgoth find you in a tomb and teach you how to juggle knives and play with swords for kicks? What do you do in the Grand Necropolis as a Warrior or a Rogue that's vulnerable to possession? Stand back and ‘watch’ while the real mages deal with the spirits of the dead? Or are you just sweeping the floors like one of the animated skeletons?

The Veilguard page on EA’s website describes the Mourn Watch as: ‘an elite necromantic order’, and they first appear in a short story called Down Among the Dead Men in an anthology called ‘Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights’.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Every mage in the kingdom of Nevarra was part of the Mortalitasi, a group that trained the gifted in the mysteries of magic. They served as Nevarra’s arcane protectors and priests. Within the Mortalitasi was a group of select mages invited into an old fraternity called the Mourn Watch. The Watchers served as elite guardians, keepers of the Grand Necropolis and its sacred repository of the dead.“

So, according to the story, the Mourn Watch are: a) only mages b) only Mortalitasi (death mage/necromancers from Nevarra)

So, Rook being a Warrior or a Rogue in the Mourn Watch doesn't really make sense. A Dwarf Rook wouldn’t even be able to perceive the Fade where spirits come from. It’s like a mage walking up to the Chantry and asking to join the Templars doing a mage hunt. It could be interesting, if the game did it on purpose to make a character unique, as Bioware has been known to do. Or it could be funny! A joke character which would also not be out of Bioware’s wheelhouse. (Never forget, Sandal)

But if you just blatantly ignore your own world building for no discernable reason right out of the gate, it’s clear you don’t take your own work seriously.

It’s so minor, but the game instantly breaks its own lore in character creation because the Mourn Watch are mages that deal with death magic, especially corpse possession. And here you are, running around trying to bonk spirits with a sword?

Why not use something else? Same anthology, different story. The Dread Wolf Take You by Patrick Weekes:

“There are others among the Mortalitasi who do other work—the Guides of the Path to shepherd the corpses, the Mourn Watch to deal with magic gone awry—”

I can’t get the image of a Mortalitasi Guide of the Path schlepping through the Necropolis with a bunch of corpses attached to their belt with magic leashes like a dog walker.

My point is, there are more groups of people moving through the Grand Necropolis than just Mourn Watchers, and since you’re, I don’t know, WRITING THE STORY, then create a Mourn Guard that’s all rogues/warriors with Templar/Seeker powers that can dispel magic and fight spirits and protect the Mourn Watch while they do rituals or something. Why not make Rook part of that? Why make this weird forced association with the Mourn Watch specifically when they’re so exclusive to mages?

And what about the Veil Jumpers? They were founded by a clan of Dalish elves trying to reclaim their lost heritage in Arlathan Forest where the capital of the elvenahn empire was obliterated by Tevinter mages and now they just admit anyone brave enough to jump into a death trap of malfunctioning magical artifacts?

Let's rewind back to Dragon Age Origins:

"You were born amidst the Dalish elves: noble wanderers who refused to join the society of humans that subjugated their homeland so long ago. The Dalish travel the lands in tightly-knit clans, struggling to maintain their half-forgotten lore in a human world that fears and despises them." - Duncan narrates the Dalish Elf Origin

Fast forward to "We've evacuated three Dalish settlements already."

Settlements??? The Dalish? Surely, I have misheard.

"Any Dalish settlements we can save, we should."

Hah? Nani?

And then Strife hits you with the greatest bit of dialogue ever written:

"If we could predict where they'd strike next, we might be able to get ahead of them. But so far, they've been unpredictable."

Genius. Chef's kiss. Where would we be without you Strife?

So, let me get this straight: The Dalish - the cagiest of elves, who distrust outsiders to a fault and barely tolerate traders, always moving about to avoid the wrath of human society - suddenly had a change of heart and thought it was okay to admit dwarves, qunari and humans into their clan? Humans - the people who destroyed the city of Arlathan which they are now picking apart?

From the Dalish perspective, why would anyone but elves care about ancient elven artifacts?

Reason a) to steal them and sell them off later

Reason b) to make use of their power for selfish purposes, likely the enslavement of elves (again)

The former leading to the latter in most cases, especially so close to Tevinter.

So why would they risk the security of their clan by admitting humans? And why would the Veil Jumpers have Morrigan on speed dial? To the point that we see her immediately as soon as Rook shows up at the Veil Jumper camp?

I get it, you wanted to bring back an old fan fave. But as far as we know, Strife only met Harding and Varric when they came to Arlathan forest in 'The Missing'. So, how does Strife know Morrigan? And the rest of Clan Morlyn are just chill with bringing in all these outsiders? It's super out of character and I think the developers know this because if you walk through the Veil Jumper camp, it’s all elves and aravel. This is a roving Dalish clan.

The environment tells the story and Arlathan Forest tells us this place belongs to the elves, both ancient and otherwise. Maybe half-elves at a stretch? But creating a Dwarf Veil Jumper Rook makes no sense because dwarves can't cross the Veil into the Fade and the game admits it! When you step outside the Lighthouse and talk to Harding you get this dialogue:

Harding: Rook. You're awake! And we're... Rook: In the Fade. Harding: This is where people come when they dream. But dwarves don't dream... And somehow we're here! Rook: Yeah, it's... unreal.

THE RISE OF SKYWALKER OF IT ALL

And then you have a 'meeting' and Harding hits you with a-

Harding: "Except that dwarves don't dream, remember? We can't. The Fade is the world of dreams, and we're not connected to it."

Cool. I'm glad we all agree that this is fucking broken and doesn't make sense. Are you going to explain it? No?

Moving on then.

Half of Arlathan forest is weird portals through the Veil connected to the Fade. That's why they're called Veil Jumpers, they jump through the Veil, into the Fade, and back. This is something dwarves are cannonically unable to do. Even Harding in the beginning. So why is Dwarf Veil Jumper Rook even an option? Why would dwarves even need any of the magical elven artifacts?

Don't get me started on a Qunari walking through a Dalish camp full of mages and seeing someone like Bellara just accidentally exploding things. Those mages would be in chains with their lips sewn shut before you could say 'saarebas'. It just doesn't hold up to scrutiny and the game doesn't make any effort to explain it other than "We accept everybody!" (yay?)

Conversely, the Antivan Crows would not accept a mage into their ranks for the simple reason that they're super Andrastian (Catholic). The Crows were originally an arm of the Chantry/Church - a bunch of monks that were very good with herbs, read: poisons. They lived in the hills of Treviso and (woopsie!) poisoned the despotic duke nearby, starting a dynasty of infamous assassins, thieves and spies. The Antivan Crows are a criminal organisation with high-ranking members among the richest people in Antiva, even royals, with dubious morals akin to the Godfather version of the Italian mob. But the game white-washes the Crows into underground resistance heroes instead.

Let's do a small fantasy reality check here. The Crows base of operations - the Cantori Diamond - is a casino they own. The Crows have more in common with Trump than antifa but we're supposed to think they're Batmen? Sorry. "Shadowy protectors". Notice how the thieves and spies occupation has been removed from the job description. Evidently, someone's been playing too much Assassin's Creed (or saw the popularity of it and decided to cash in).

Similarly, the game glosses over how a lot of lower level Crows are elves because humans find them more attractive and therefore more easy to fall for and get assassinated by. Or that the Crows will buy children from whorehouses with too many unwanted pregnancies. These children are kept and raised in Amazon warehouses cramped quarters, subsist on 'Crow feed', are subjected to harsh training including torture and are killed if they make any mistake, mostly to keep the rest in line.

We know this through a former companion - Zevran Arainai - and his adventures in the Dragon Age universe. But Veilguard turns around and shows us some kid named Jacobus that mouths off to the Fifth and Seventh Talon and the Governor and is somehow elevated to the status of full Crow and given his own House??? All because his cousin died on a job (that Rook finished).

Ummm. Cool? Equality in the workplace, I guess? Ignore the child labour or the fact that you work for the mob. And let's not think too hard about how the rest of the Crows would react to this upstart child (by sending him flying from the casino and into the canal with a blade in his heart), prodigy or no.

Cool. Cool cool cool. Let's not think about what this actually means. Instead, show us the beautiful villa where Lucanis and Illario grew up. It has its own Opera House! Wow, you say, as Veilguard continuously shouts in your ear: "Assassins are cool! The Crows are a Family! It's the elected government officials and the occupying army of invaders that are bad."

Of course, older fans will be aware of the difference between a First Talon's grandson and a whoreson the Crows bought for cheap in the red light district on the Rialto Bay. But new players will be blissfully unaware of all the child trafficking our 'shadowy protectors' get up to. Since that would be very squicky to everyone who wants to romance Lucanis - Prince of the Assassins (and thieves, spies, poisoners and child soldier trainers).

However, this doesn't remove the Circle of Magi from Antiva. What is a Circle of Magi, you ask? It doesn't seem to be anywhere in the glossary or the codex? Interesting. Since a whole war got fought about it in Inquisition. You know, the Mages vs the Templars? That old chestnut. Well, The Circle of Magi is where mages typically go to train in magic when their powers manifest. This is for safety as well as prudence because you could accidentally turn into a little demon if you're not careful. So there are these big tough people called Templars that watch you all the time to make sure you're not doing anything bad with your magic. But if you do, they can do this neat thing called the Right of Annulment where they kill every mage in the Circle to minimise risk :)

And who's in charge of the Templars? Why the Chantry, of course. You know, the Dragon Age Church? Hm? That's not- Oh, there is an entry on the Chantry in the codex - The Imperial Chantry! Oh, it's just a note from Brother Gentivi griping about the schism between the Chantry in Tevinter and everywhere else. Interesting. Oh, there's an entry on the Maker and Andraste. Huh... These seem kind of irrelevant to the game. I wonder why-

*never interacts with the Chantry*

Ah. I see. I suppose that would require the game to tackle squicky topics such as religious institutions and the corruption within.

An important factor, if you choose the Mage class with the Crow Background. Not that the game would ever tell you this. Employing an apostate (mage outside the Church's oversight) would attract the attention of the Templars and the entire Orlesian Chantry. Regardless of their faith in the teachings of Andraste, if the Crows were harbouring apostate mages and training them to be assassins, the Divine would call an Exalted March (murder crusade) upon Treviso. They've already done this once to fight the Qunari and wouldn't you know it? The 'Butcher' is occupying Treviso right now. How convenient.

The fact that Lucanis gets possessed by a Demon despite not being a mage is an anomaly. And the fact that he maintains his human appearance instead of transforming into an Capital-A Abomination is incredible but not unheard of. We see Anders from DA2 retain his human form, albeit with some cracks, when possessed by a 'spirit' of Justice so... okay, sure. A Venatori blood mage slapped Spite onto Lucanis and he somehow maintains his own body, mind and has room for a very agreeable demon. Unlike this actual Abomination from DA:Origins.

But Veilguard acts like it’s all very cool and not a hindrance to Lucanis' daily life. He just walks around having coffee and whipping his wings out to tackle the first baddie you see. He’s broody and reclusive because that’s his personality (not because he would be pursued by Templars through the streets of Treviso just for existing). And the other Crow families (an already slapdash charicature of Italian mafiosos) just accept the Demon of Vyrantium as the First Talon? An abomination? All because he’s murder-grandma’s favourite?

Who are these people? Because they don’t sound like Antivan Crows to me.

And Illario casually mentions that they have a mage on staff? In the first Treviso mission where you go to the Ossuary in a little boat? There’s a mage in a cute little Crow outfit? You have an apostate on call? Out in the open???

This doesn't make sense in the context of the game either because then we hear an NPC give us this exposition in ambient dialogue:

Scholar: "The Butcher seems more reasonable than most Antaam, but he still doesn't want any mages in the city."

So either the Crows are harbouring displaced mages that are being persecuted by the Antaam, which would be a very cool and interesting development due to the occupation of Treviso, or, more likely, the Veilguard writers just don’t give a shit.

Similarly, a Crow Rook openly using magic in Treviso is totally handwaved by the game as something normal and okay when they should be getting dogpiled by Templars and Antaam. You’re an apostate! Saarebas! The Chantry is going to make you Tranquil if you don’t run, hide or repent! The Arvaraas is gonna put a magic shock collar on you and drag you around in chains if the Antaam don't kill you first.

As for the Shadow Dragons, I don’t see how a Qunari in Tevinter would not immediately stand out as a Ben-Hassrath agent saboteur and compromise the organisation. You hear as soon as you get to Treviso:

Teia: "The Antaam reached a stalemate in their war with Tevinter. Some have turned here instead. Antiva was rich, comfortable... and has no standing army to stop them."

Meanwhile, the Shadow Dragons are supposed to be a covert abolitionist group in the most racist country in Thedas - Tevinter - living on a knife’s edge between blood magic and slavery. There would be humans, sure. Maybe an elf can pretend to be a slave to get around? Maybe a dwarf could be Ambassadoria or something? But a Qunari? Even a Vashoth. In Minrathous??? The city the Qunari are still at war with?

"The outskirts of Minrathous are awash in a sea of refugees turned destitute by the never-ending war between the Imperium and the Qunari." —From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

Storytime!

Myrion of Ventus didn’t know much about Qunari. Until last week, they had been an annoyance, something young soldiers went off to fight while everyone else grumbled about the taxes they paid to defend the Imperium from the savage ox-men. That ignorance had ended in a blast of cannon fire, and in less than a day, Ventus, jewel of the Tevinter Imperium, had fallen. The Qunari had cut down anyone wearing armor. Those who were unarmed, they had herded into different groups. The women, children, and elderly had quickly returned to their homes. The mages had screamed horribly as alchemical concoctions killed their minds and left them as empty husks who stumbled along, sweeping dirt from the streets with awful vacant stares, their beautiful gold-trimmed robes dragging in the dirt behind them. The men, however, had been put into work camps. - "Three Trees to Midnight" by Patrick Weekes, from the anthology Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights

But yeah, sure. Qunari Shadow Dragon. Won't be murdered on sight upon approaching the gates to Minrathous. No, sir...

The game doesn’t react to these wild choices. You’re just Some Guy Rook, blissfully unaware of the lore you’re breaking because the game doesn’t care about it either. It doesn’t punish you or make you confront your decisions despite letting you take these big swings. It just makes you recite all the same lines as though it's all a-okay.

I would love to see a Qunari Shadow Dragon narrative or to find out how an apostate mage became a Crow. These sound like cool characters that have a lot of complexity and story to them but unfortunately, Veilguard does world building like a tradie filling a sandbox in the playground - by dumping an entire truck of sand on it.

They let it bury the existing lore so you don’t have to think about the sticky consequences of your decisions or the less than perfect world you live in by digging too deeply into the past or seeing the structure it's built on.

All of this could have been avoided with just a little care. Just impose limits on what Class/Race can join which faction. I know you can do it because the game won’t let you be a dwarven mage. And I know it’s racist. That’s the point. If you want to be inclusive of all races, you can’t just erase the discrimination a race experiences because it makes you feel uncomfortable. And if the lockout is too limiting, then maybe create some new factions that everyone can join instead of using the names of existing organisations within the Dragon Age universe for token fan service without enforcing any substance to the concept or history of them.

I know why they didn’t do any of this and just wrote a bunch of world-breaking hooey for the Backgrounds. It’s because it doesn’t actually matter! The little blurbs about your Faction and Backstory don’t impact any decision in the game at all. They don’t stop you or help you in any way past the starting equipment/abilities. You don't know the companion that comes from the same faction as yours, so you're basically strangers. The extra dialogue options don’t let you do anything unique or exclusive to the Background. So, of course, they’re a pile of nonsense. And players new to DA won’t know that anything is amiss at all, which makes it glaringly obvious who this game is actually intended for.

But hey, we gotta make all that dense lore accessible, right?

*eye twitch*

So, you pick a Backstory for your Main Character: "Rook". Even though both Solas and Iron Bull refer to it as 'the Tower' when they're playing chess in Inquisition. >_> (I'm not salty, you're salty.)

I chose Shadow Dragon Elf Rook for the ex-slave liberati spice (prepare for an extended rant upon elvenkind)

You would think that by choosing a backstory linked to a specific place, that you would know something about that place? Right?

Well yes, but actually no.

Cue the opening cutscene of Veilguard.

Seedy Bar with Varric -> Dumat Plaza.

Varric: “Can you get us there, Harding?” Harding: “Rook, you’re with the Shadow Dragons. I figured you’d know Minrathous better than I do.” 👆 Piddly Shadow Dragon Rook: “Sure, but Minrathous is huge, and this is nowhere near my neighborhood. I can try…” 🥺 👉👈

Really? That’s the best you could come up with?

Just for shits and giggles, I tried another Background and got this exchange instead:

Varric: “Can you get us there, Harding?” Harding: “Not a problem. I saw Dumat Plaza while I was scouting the area… It was crawling with Venatori. Follow me.”

So. This plaza that’s named after an Old God, that’s so obvious Harding spotted it on her first trip to Minrathous… Shadow Dragon Rook doesn’t know how to get there??? Even if they grew up in Minrathous working for a resistance group using miles of underground catacombs to smuggle people to safety? You even do missions in them later because Darkspawn start popping out.

Okay, sure. Other Rooks won’t know where to go. The writers thought up a throwaway line to acknowledge it and make Harding take point since the player won't know Dumat Plaza either. You don't want to make an exclusive mission and assets for 2 minutes of gameplay. I get it. I just kind of shrugged at this since it’s the opening scene. But it happened so immediately that it really felt like a slap to the face.

Like, why did I choose this Background if it can’t be useful in the moment? At least say 'the demons blocked all the paths I know' or 'there goes that bridge lol' as it blows up or something cool and substantial instead of this blatant cop out that backs away from your own identity.

"Whatever", I thought. This is just the beginning of the game.

Boy, was I right.

Since I chose the Shadow Dragon Background, I was sure that I would have a rich connection to this organisation that frees slaves and battles blood mages. But no. Apparently, I've been completely cut off since I left the city. And have to be led to the contact by… my new colleague, Neve Gallus. Who I've never heard of before?

This is the dialogue when you first meet:

Varric: "Rook this is Neve Gallus, our local expert."

And what am I, chopped liver?

Varric: "She's gonna help us find Solas. Neve, meet Rook. Both of you have done some work for the Shadow Dragons." Neve: "Isn't that a coincidence?"

I GUESS IT MUST BE, NEVE! For all the good that it does.

This is what you get when you talk to her in the Lighthouse as a Shadow Dragon:

Neve: Strange place we've fallen into. But I'll work with it. You know me. Rook: “Do I?” 👆 Neve: "We're both Shadow Dragons, and both from Minrathous. Maybe our paths haven't crossed, but I know our work has. It's a start."

Cool, I'm so glad I get a whole special line of dialogue to parrot our stupid motto. Seriously? Shadow Dragons? What happened to Lucerni? I know, I know, they were disbanded. But at least give me Umbra Dracones or something cool. -sigh-

So Neve takes me to Minrathous and this is the special exclusive dialogue you get for Shadow Dragon Rook:

Neve: "Minrathous. The Heart of Tevinter. Somehow the beat of it always pulls me back..." Rook: "It's just how I left it." Neve: "It always is." Rook: "Do the Shadow Dragons know we're here?" Tarquin: "Neve Gallus. You only turn up when you want news. Or you've got some." Neve: "Tarquin!" Tarquin: "And it's "Rook" now, I hear. Rook: "Tarquin." Tarquin: "I thought you'd be gone for good." Neve: "How are things?" Tarquin: "Same old Minrathous. Mages not letting us poor ungifted wretches forget where we stand."

And then the Viper appears and you get the same dialogue about the relic as everyone else except there's a shiny badge on the side of the screen reminding you that you clicked a button a few hours ago.

Then they hit you with the:

Tarquin: "And welcome home, Rook. Try not to get yourself run out of the city again."

Wow. Okay. Maybe this is just the beginning. I’m sure there are exclusive missions for Rook to do since they helped save all those slaves and pissed off all those nasty Venatori blood mages in their backstory! I’m a recognisable face that had to flee the city! I’m sure there are some NPCs or rivals in Minrathous specifically for Shadow Dragon Rook to talk to.

Maybe some templars will try to arrest me? Maybe there are whispers in the streets that I’ve returned? Maybe you have to wear a disguise to sneak into certain places? Perhaps one of the freed slaves recognises Rook and shows their gratitude, or sells you out to a magister?

Anything cool like that?

…

*crickets*

My background might as well be Some Guy.

Move aside Main Character, because every mission in Minrathous is about your cool new companion, Neve Gallus - an Icy Tevinter Mage solving crimes in Dock Town.

Sounds rad, right?

She’s a hardboiled magic detective, but also a stylish lady with a cool prosthetic leg that's shaped like a metal snake! And she has a fancy cigarette holder pipe (that we never see again)? And a cool ass magic rod? A geometric shape for a hat? With a veil? What a concept!

Imagine, taking a case that goes from the gritty streets of Dock Town, all the way up to the top. To the Archon's Palace floating above the city where the magisters concoct their evil schemes and shoot their magic laser beams at demons.

Surely, the finale of Neve’s arc with the Shadow Dragons will see us ascend to the glorious decadent capital of the Tevinter Imperium, to free indentured slaves who will rise up against their masters and help us slay some corrupt Venatori Magisters?! Maybe even the Archon himself!

…

No?

Really?

We get to choose the next Archon (magic emperor/king of Tevinter) in our seedy little hideout but not install them?

We don’t get to fight anybody or even go up there?

And why?

Because the Big Bad needs to take over the Archon’s palace in the final battle.

But- wouldn’t it- make sense for us to weaken the Archon and magisters so that Elger’nan can easily swoop in and take the palace like that?

Huh? That only happens if you let the Minrathous get destroyed and the Venatori take over the Archon's Palace.

But what if Treviso got destroyed and the Venatori never took over?

You still can't go up there?

Hmmmm. Feels like a super missed opportunity but guess what? It won’t be the last!

Turns out, with the exception of the opening sequence and the final battle which are heavily railroaded by cutscenes, you never leave Dock Town when you visit Minrathous. Instead of an imposing and extravagant Imperial city held together with magic, you get to run around a boring wet fleabottom of an area that’s not very big and reminds me of DA2's Kirkwall but wet. WHICH IS IRONIC because Kirkwall was the Imperium's slave capital in the south when it was a quarry. So the environment artists are on point. BUt the writers??

The game makes you return to Dock Town over and over, taking the same route through the same dank city streets, And every time, the bad guys are the Venatori, even if the Thread Crime Syndicate is involved, it's actually the Venatori behind everything!

You see, in Veilguard, Venatori is code for white 'mage supremacist cult'. They have a red/black colour scheme because of all the evil blood magic they do, not because they’re Republicans. And they all wear hoods to cover up their identities like the KKK so they’re literally faceless fascists when we mow them down. And we don’t interrogate any of that too much so we don’t feel bad about slaying them by the dozen. And I mean, 9 to 5 reaper duty on these people. I must have culled half the city and they still show up as a massive army at the end.

But we don't interact with any Venatori outside combat situations which means we don't get to talk to them or interrogate them. We only hear them scheming and quibbling and genuinely behaving like henchmen in an evil organisation. We don't see them as nuanced individuals or their day-to-day lives or why they might actually do blood magic and slavery in their hometown. Heck, we don’t even see the social stratification of Tevinter mages at all. Where’s the hierarchy within the hierarchy? Where is the Altus/Laetans/Praeteri divide? In a single codex entry from Brother Genitivi copypasted from Origins, I swear.

To the point that I still don’t know what Neve is supposed to be. I suspect she's Praeteri because according to her flavour text she was: “Born and raised in a working-class neighborhood of Minrathous.”

What does that mean in a city where there’s a servant class as well as a working class? Did Neve’s family have servants or even slaves? We don’t know and we don’t interrogate it. We just see her run around Dock Town in her fancy magic outfit (gorgeous btw) which makes her stand out of the crowd but she doesn’t connect with anyone except a guy named Halos who owns a food stall, and a Templar called Rana Savas - a cop whose dead husband is also a cop.

Way to be an ally, I guess. We ticked the activism box, gang! Chalk one up for ‘woke’ on the board. We can’t say 'fuck the police' or ACAB but at least our upper class private investigator is standing up for the little guy. Who, specifically? Halos the fish-fry who keeps trying to give Neve a grilled fish on stick (with all the scales and bones on it) on the house! But she always pays for it because she's so woke.

Sure, let's support small business owners, I guess. But how are you pandering to the ‘working class’ if Neve’s a mage?? That automatically puts her in the upper class of Tevinter, albeit the lowest rung if she comes from a non-magic family. Still! All vints secretly hope for a magical child in the family so they can magically pull themselves up by their bootstraps and into the upper crust. It’s a magocracy. There’s no other way up there.

A Praeteri magus is miles above any Soporati and lightyears above any slave in the Tevinter social strata. Neve’s family would have been thrilled! If the writers had bothered to give her a family, that is.

And wouldn’t Neve be sent to the Imperial Circle of Magi for training as soon as her magic was discovered? Like- If you know even a crumb of lore, the whole ‘raised in a working-class neighbourhood’ line comes off as bogus virtue signaling because Neve would have gone to a selective private school for the genetically gifted before even hitting puberty.

There’s like one NPC in Minrathous you hear talking about coming down to Dock Town because he doesn’t fit in at magic school with all the snooty upper class mages. I wanna hear more from him! I wanna interact with these Praeteri more! Ask them questions! Beat up their bullies at magic university! But it’s just some ambient dialogue as you get in an elevator.

Mage: "How has the Minrathous Circle been? Getting used to the schedule? The lectures?" Circle Scholar: "It... It's fine. There's just quite a few highbloods and... well. I guess it's why I come down here when I have the time. It feels like I actually belong here."

-LATER-

Circle Scholar: "So I'm supposed to accept that they're better because of an accident of birth?" Mage: "That's just how the world works."

-EVEN LATER- Mage: "My family isn't Altus either. You can find success in Minrathous, even if you're not from one of the old families. Sometimes all you need to do is just act like you're a highblood. People tend not to question it." Circle Scholar: "But I shouldn't have to act like something I'm not just to get ahead."

Why don't we get this opinion from Neve?

We know the reason, of course - that would be problematic for the audience and force people to confront their privilege. Even if they support the lower class, they’ll never be of the lower class, so instead they get to live vicariously through Neve who selflessly devotes her entire life to the less fortunate of Dock Town. The game never elaborates on why, or her inciting incident, or her raison d’etre other than ‘this is my town!’ like a true hard-boiled detective.

We see only two other Tevinter mages with 10+ lines of dialogue who are conveniently - the good ones. And that's ONLY if you choose to save Minrathous.

Dorian Pavus - former DA: Inquisition companion and necromancer who managed to travel through time in very sexy gay way. He returns to Minrathous to take his father’s place as Magister Pavus when the crotchety old homophobe dies. We don't get word on whether he frees his Altus family's slaves though.

Then there’s Maevaris Tilani, a trans woman written very carefully so that she doesn’t tip off the cishets about her transness. She tells Rook a story about how her father presented her to the Magisterium as his heir when she turned 15, but focuses on the ‘woman' part. The Magisters all disapproved! Which paints them with a believable sexist brush, instead of a transphobic one to the average gamerbro. I didn't realise this until I spoke to some friends that only played the videogames, and they completely missed it. And when I mentioned Tarquin was also trans? Blank stares and dialup noises in the brain.

But this is all the mages we see up close in Minrathous because why would you want to listen to nasty racist sexist transphobic fascist wizards explain why they are like that? That would require empathy. Ew.

So 99% of mages in Minrathous are enemy NPCs which means we hear the same sound bites from the same cardboard cutout evil wizards bent on 'reclaiming their legacy' and 'feeling empowered'. They're all mad and power-hungry and infiltrating the government all the time. We even catch one of the evil wizards’ kids buying illegal lyrium relics (read: drugs) and getting arrested. But then the cops/templars turn out to be dirty, so the kid's dad shows up and he gets released immediately. It reads like a hamfisted metaphor for US politicians/elites at best, and a pizzagate conspiracy at worst.

The culmination of Neve’s big storyline in Dock Town is a fight with a blood mage called Aelia but we don’t hear about her until halfway through the game. Apparently she’s someone Neve put away a long time ago for blood magic reasons. Turns out Aelia fell for the Big Bad’s promise of power and used the forbidden yucky blood magic again and isn’t sorry about it! >:(

I guess we have to - get her!

The fight concludes with a beaten Aelia getting manhandled. You don’t even get the option to kill her yourself for all the evil bloodletting that she does. Instead, Neve must choose, I’m sorry no, that’s incorrect. YOU must choose FOR Neve to become either the Protector of Dock Town or a Symbol of Hope. And since the game doesn't let you choose anything else, you just give custody of this evil bitch to someone outside the party.

Whatever you pick, the cutscene ends with Aelia getting dragged away by Evek the Thread or Rana the Templar. The mob or the cops.

PROTECTOR OF DOCK TOWN

Rook: "This ends here. Send a message." Neve: “Dock Town needs protection.” Aelia: "When this is over, I will bring it to them." Neve: "You won't! But I will."

- Aelia gets her ass handed to her -

Aelia: "I would raise us all. You-" Neve: “Enough. Dock Town’s under my protection. Elek.” - Aelia tries to stab Neve the good old fashioned way but gets intercepted by Elek the regular dude with no power -

Aelia: “Is this where you finish it?” Neve: “Rumour has it the Threads protect their streets.” - turns and walks away as a bunch of mobsters with lead pipes approach Aelia - -VS- SYMBOL OF HOPE

Rook: "Dock Town has you. And they see it." Neve: "They just want hope. A chance..." Aelia: "When this is over, I will bring it to them." Neve: "You won't! But I'll give it a shot." - Aelia gets her ass handed to her -

Aelia: "I would raise us all. You-" Neve: "I'll do what I can. Rana. Take Aelia. Make sure Dock Town sees it happen."

- Aelia tries to stab Neve the good old fashioned way but gets intercepted by Rana the Templar without magic -

Aelia: "You tried to stop me before!" Neve: "And if you escape, I'll find you again! And every time I do, Minrathous will see someone standing against people like you."

- Neve walks off and Rana arrests Aelia -

Because letting a crime boss drag someone into the shadows to be 'dealt' with, or handing them over to a corrupt police organisation, are clearly the only two options in this 'holy cow! it's the joker, batman' scenario. You can't kill Aelia yourself for all the murder and blood magic and kidnapping and colluding with the evil Gods that she does. You can't choose to rehabilitate her by sending her to a facility outside Tevinter such as a Circle of Magi (they'd probably turn her Tranquil but whatevs). You can't squeeze her to sell out the Elven Gods plans or anything.

It's a nothingburger decision that potentially puts a dangerous cultist back on the street in a few years ala the Joker and Bats. And if you chose Treviso over Minrathous, you don't even get the choice! You automatically side with Elek the Thread and Neve becomes Protector of Dock Town.

Player choice? In this role playing game? It's less likely than you think.

Either way, Neve gets a little boost to her powers and becomes a Hero of the Veilguard (this means she probably won’t die in the endgame). And if you chose Minrathous over Treviso, you get to choose a new Archon of Tevinter - Dorian or Maevaris, even if you aren't a Shadow Dragon. Neve will tell you her opinion based on whether she became a Protector of Dock Town (Dorian proposes radical change) or a Symbol of Hope (Maevaris proposes changing the system from the inside). But if you picked one, chances are, you were already gonna pick the associated one anyway.

Neve doesn’t leave the party if you choose the opposite to her pick. And the Shadow Dragons make absolute sure to tell you that they'll be behind you either way so you don't lose their support. There are absolutely no stakes to this and all you get in the end is a one sentence title card in the credits about Minrathous and the leader you picked.

If you chose Treviso over Minrathous, then you automatically get Protector of Dock Town and Dorian. No epilogue or anything. You don't even know it's an option.

But you can only see the true result of your actions if you chose Minrathous over Treviso:

Protector of Dock Town - Elek the Thread gives Neve the title and control of the Thread Crime Syndicate in a cutscene. She becomes a mob boss and brings the organisation into the fold of the Shadow Dragons by introducing Elek to the Viper at the Cobbled Swan and tells Elek: "If I'm not here: he asks, you answer."

Symbol of Hope - Rana Savas quits being a templar (cop) and starts a detective agency with Neve. She is introduced to the Viper at the Cobbled Swan. Neve gets a couple of leads on Venatori plans but they're not missions for you to do, and they have nothing to do with the Elven Gods. (you find a letter from Aelia in the Gaspin Manor in the Hossberg wetlands) However, Neve is painted to be a Hero and this is considered the good ending. Again, we can't say ACAB because there's one good cop that quit :/

None of this affects the final battle or anything but party banter.

And what does Rook get for all this wanton murder?

You guessed it!

*tumbleweed*

Nothing :)

Fine. You didn't have time to write a bunch of bespoke shit for Rook. I get it. Gamedev crunch is bitch. But hey, uh... where are the slaves?

Hm?

You would think, since Shadow Dragon Rook helped rescue all those slaves in their backstory and keeps broken chains in their bedroom as a macabre reminder, we would see some slaves or ex-slaves in Minrathous, right? Liberati, maybe? I mean, this is such a big problem for the city that an organization like the Shadow Dragons has to exist in secret for fear of reprisals. You would think that you would interact with people that are currently enslaved, right?

Unfortunately, that would be problematic so what happens is... we don’t interact with any actual slaves in Tevinter.

At least I didn’t in my eighty something hours of gameplay.

The closest you get is a mission where some Dock Hands get captured and put in cages and then you find some pieces of paper that say the Venatori are going to sacrifice them for a big ritual. So, they're trafficking people to kill them. But they're not technically slaves.

The only actual Venatori Slave I found was in the Grand Necropolis in Nevarra! And we have to immediately backpedal to say there are no slaves in Nevarra so you're not technically a slave!

Venatori Slave: They said... they said I'd spilled the wine too many time. That I'd be a better sacrifice than a slave.

Emmirch: You are in Nevarra, sir. There are no slave on our soil.

Didn't realise you felt so strongly about slaves, Emmrich. Considering what you do to the dead :x

But Minrathous is supposedly the capital of the Tevinter Imperium, the slaver capital of the world of Thedas. The only country where this practice is not only legal but government approved. The government buys slaves for public infrastructure - Servus Publicus. In Dragon Age 2, your companion Fenris says that the Minrathous Slave Bazaar is a street ten miles long. So they should have slaves there, right? In the shops? On the streets? Waiting on nobles? Carrying stuff? They would supposedly come in via ships through the docks in DOCK Town? RIGHT?

So... where are they? Because I sure as Hell didn't see any on my fiftieth mandatory loop of Dock Town. Just a bunch of beggars and peasants and criminals ala every medieval fantasy RPG town. So either, the Shadow Dragons are doing their job a little too well or the gamedevs have decided to sanitize the whole thing so you don't have to deal with anything as problematic and upsetting as the visual representation of slavery.

*checks ESRB rating for Veilguard*

MATURE 17+ Blood, Nudity, Sexual Themes, Strong Language, Violence

Okay, so… “What’s shapin'?” as Rook would say.

Slavery’s been one of the biggest socio-political issues in Thedas since the beginning. It's incredibly important to the plot of the game since the Big Bad - Solas - is an ‘elf’ that caused the downfall of his people, allowing them be enslaved by the Tevinter mages for over a millenia. I mean, your companion in DA2 was experimented on by a Tevinter mage and slaver and you met him in person! Danarius went to Kirkwall to collect his ‘property’ referring to a person! The Gallows in Kirkwall were built to intimidate slaves fresh off the boat. And you’re telling me, that in the capital of Tevinter, you can’t see any slaves? You can't interact with any of them? And the closest you get to slavers is Venatori brandishing glowing red hooks?

And WHERE is all the blood for these hooks coming from, pray tell?

The game constantly forces you to destroy these 5 foot floating red crystals that power magic walls and protect evil wizards but it doesn’t elaborate on how they’re made. We're told the Venatori do blood magic i.e. casting spells using blood instead of a Chantry approved rock called Lyrium. There's mention OF Red Lyrium - Lyrium's evil blighted cousin that makes you go crazy, paranoid and homicidal. However, the Venatori just look like regular clansmen. I mean, they’re homicidal, but only because I broke into their secret hideout during a clan meeting. We arrested that one guy trying to smuggle Lyrium relics into the city.

So, did the Venatori blood mages donate the blood for all the crystals in Minrathous themselves? Was it locally sourced? Organic? Free range blood? Fully consented to donating? Hmmm?

The closest we get to an explanation is one mission where a woman's husband, Atticus, goes missing. You follow the trail to a mage called Linus whose son is sick (boohoo), so he decides to do this:

WooooOOooo. Blood magic bad and scary. Everyone died. It was a Demon of Desperation's fault. Not the mage that did this, no. We have to be sympathetic to this piece of shit apparently. The game doesn't explain how this was supposed to help his son or what happened to Linus. And Atticus wasn't a slave, just some guy that walked into the wrong bar that may or may not be trafficking people.

I guess it’s technically not slavery if you kidnap a person and kill them afterwards. That’s just plain old murder. Much easier to think about killing people like Aelia in retaliation for murder instead of thinking about the hows and whys of blood magic for two seconds. Because blood magic problematic and nasty, YUCK!

Just to rub it in, Neve and Emmrich - two of the Veilguard party's mages, will talk to each other about Never Ever Never doing a blood magic because it's bad and evil. Even though one of these characters is a straight up Necromancer Death Mage and Fade Expert while the other comes from a city of blood mages.

Neve: "So. Necromancy's your calling." Emmrich: "Like most Nevarran mages. I hope it's not a concern." Neve: "We'll find out." Emmrich: "Your own practice - your work must find you in dangerous corners. Your experience with blood magic... Neve: "You want to know if I've tried it myself." Emmrich: "Well, in so many words..." Neve: "Never have. Never would."

Okay. Cool. Glad that no one in the party has blood magic cooties.

The game doesn't elaborate as to why blood magic bad. We're shown a bunch of dead bodies and left to make our own assumptions. But it doesn't tell you that can use blood magic to do a bunch of stuff, including regular magic, just using your own blood as a spell component.

So let's get into it since Veilguard flip flops around it like a fish.

Reasons why blood magic is bad:

a) you can use it to control blood, literally. mess with people’s thoughts and free will, walk their dreams and send them to the Fade. (you can do this with Lyrium too because it's also blood)

b) it attracts demons from the Fade. They hone in on mages, possess their bodies and transform them into abominations.

With Reason B, a mage is tempted by the demon to submit in exchange for power, sometimes verbally, sometimes they see tempting illusions over the warped world of the Fade which will keep you happy and dreaming forever if it can. The demons talk in your head and even take control of your body while this happens.

BUT mages don't even have to do blood magic for this to happen. A side effect of being a mage in this world is that you are a target for demons and spirits in the Fade whether you use blood magic or not. You could enter the Fade in a dream and encounter a demon and if you're not prepared/strong enough, it will trap you there and possess your body. That’s why mages get locked in towers and supervised by Templars for the rest of their days. Why the Qunari chain their mages and sew up their mouths and cut off their tongues! Because demons could invade your body at any time if you show even a slither of weakness (or so they say)

There’s also the Chantry - the Dragon Age Catholic Church with its own Vatican in Orlais (France). They think blood magic is heresy and sin and bad. They think if you leave a mage alone they will inevitably be tempted into blood magic, so all mages need to be locked up in towers and supervised by armed guards that take super Lyrium (cocaine) to disable your spells JUST IN CASE. This Circle of Magi is where you put all the mages. They also make a Phylactery with the mages' blood in case they run away so the Templars can track you. (Blood magic is okay if you’re with the Chantry ;)

As well, the Chantry/Circle controls the Lyrium that mages get, and consequently, they control all the big spells they can cast. But you can’t control mages if they’re just using their own blood for magic, can you? Then we wouldn’t need Circles of Magi! And what about the Lyrium trade with the dwarves? How would they live without all the gold they currently make? Won’t somebody please think of the economy?!

The topic of magic is a complex one in Thedas. But do your companions discuss it in Veilguard?

No.

Does Veilguard bring it up in even a vague way?

No.

Even though the whole Mage vs Templar war was a big part of Inquisition. In Veilguard, you don't hear about the Chantry. You don't hear about the Circle of Magi. You don't hear about the Templars (except the toothless Tevinter templars who allow ethically sourced blood magic as long as its from a donor).

So all the decisions you made in Inquisition? That's right. They mean nothing!

The only choice you make in Veilguard is whether the Inquisitor disbanded the Inquisition or gave full control of it to Divine Victoria. The game doesn't reference who became Divine Victoria so that decision doesn't matter either!

Instead of a multifaceted discussion on the ethics of magic, it's white washed into 'all magic is good, Actually. Except blood magic. Peeeyeeew.' We're told even Necromancy can be Good. Just look at Emmrich Volkarin! He's such a gentlman. He has a little skeleton butler. And the Rivaini Seers let themselves be possessed by spirits because they're sooo progressive.

Meanwhile, all blood magic is taboo. In the city of blood mages and slavers built on blood magic and slavery. All we see is aesthetically pleasing red crystals dotted about Dock Town. We hear people disappear sometimes and sacrifices happen. But what are the rituals for? What do they actually do? Because Aelia set up an evil IV drip with all those people she kidnapped for some reason and the closest we get to an explanation is when Neve looks up some magic CCTV footage.

Aelia: "The risen God will unlock my true power. He's given me Vena Vitalis. We start there." Rook: "What's Vena Vitalis?" Neve: "A rumour. An Old Tevinter ritual used to increase blood magic."

Cool. A blood magic ritual to increase blood magic. Nice!

Instead of differentiating and creating nuance, the game uses the term 'blood magic' to mean 'mind control' or 'bad magic' but it doesn't actually mean that or say that. If you look at the Veilguard glossary the definition for Blood Magic is:

The use of blood to fuel powerful spells. Most nations have banned blood magic because it can be used to cloud or even control people's minds.

Similarly, the Big Bad, Elgar'nan, we're told did blood magic to control elves and enslave them (boo!). We see him and Ghilan’nain manipulate the Blight with blood magic to mind control the people of D’Meta’s crossing. But then he goes to do a ritual in Arlathan and his Archdemon rises. He has a bunch of Dalish sacrifices (supposedly he needed the purest elven blood available). But we rescue them and... then he does a ritual where he sacrifices a whole bunch of Venatori? For what? That wasn't the ritual to make the Red Lyrium Dagger. So… what's it for?

It's not clear what his entire goal is because he appears unblighted at the beginning of the game. Completely uncorrupted, just tyrannical and shitty despite being trapped on the Blight side of the veil for xxxx amount of years. Ghilan'nain, we can see, is 100% munted. But she doesn't need rituals. She'll just see two dead bodies and not ask before slapping them together to make a cool new monster.

Even Solas, the Big Bad we’re supposed to be sympathetic to, will shout in your head at the beginning of the game “I ABHOR BLOOD MAGIC!” right after he did a blood magic to get in your head.

Meanwhile in Inquisition, when you ask about learning blood magic, Solas says,

“I would teach you, if I knew it. Unfortunately, using blood magic seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade. You understand why I never bothered to learn it. A shame, as it is extremely powerful. Provided it remains a tool, not a crutch… nor a passion.”

He doesn’t use blood magic in Inquisition but has no problem doing it in Veilguard? When you catch up to him at the finale, he says,

“Yes. I was wrong to do so. I was desperate. Unless I escaped, the world would fall to tyranny and blight. The only tool I had was my tenuous connection to you.” “Blood magic.”

Okay. Cool. So you never learned how to do blood magic but you did a blood magic somehow and now you regret it. God of lies, indeed. And how did you bind the Evanuris to the Veil, Solas? If not with blood magic and a certain dagger, hmmm? Since we have to stab you to bind you to the Veil. Wouldn't that mean you had to get the blood of all the other Evanuris to do your big ritual to create the Veil begin with? Hmmmm?

It's just non-commital nonsense.

And how about the elves, huh?

You would think that Elf Rook would encounter some hostility while existing as an elf in Minrathous, aka Racism City. Perhaps they might even get mistaken for a slave by a templar and asked who they belong to? What would be Rook’s reaction to that?

Tell the truth?

Lie and play along?

Fight and get arrested? (followed by a hilarious prison break)

A classic Dragon Age scenario. Maybe you have to skip town for a while if it goes poorly? We’ll never know because Veilguard never lets you be discriminated against. Even though the subjugation of the elves has been a polarizing topic throughout the series. It's mentioned in Veilguard but never demonstrated in practice so it sounds more like a myth than a reality.

From the get-go of Dragon Age, from even character creation in Origins, you are told that elves are second class citizens that live in walled off Alienages (ghettos) on the edge of cities. The discrimination is constant. Even the ‘free’ Dalish Elves are racist to City Elves for cowing to humans.

But did anyone call me a 'knife-ear' (a slur) in Veilguard?

No. Of course, not. And I hate to say 'because of woke' like a right-wing incel edgelord but damn, y'all aren't making it easy.

Veilguard completely side-lines slavery and elves as second class citizens despite the whole story revolving around Solas vs the Evanuris - Elven Gods who enslaved elves. And even though I picked the elf race for my story, I encountered zero discrimination whatsoever. It was a perfect liberal idealist utopia that has never existed in the real world, let alone Thedas.

I know I'm complaining that no one was racist to me or shouted slurs at me in a video game but if a drag queen walked into a Trump rally, I don’t think she would have a very good time. So when Rook walks around Minrathous with their helmet off and everyone’s just cool with it, some alarm bells start ringing. Like, is the game glitching? Am I accidentally registering as human or something? Did I load the wrong character?

No?

Hm :(

Just another bullet point in a long list of things Veilguard gives lip service to but in practice, ignores or makes fun of.

You can’t just say slavery is a big deal through every character’s mouth and then not show it happening in the place where it happens frequently and so much they did wars about it. You can't just say elves face discrimination and then evenly distribute them throughout every NPC and map while removing the Elven Alienage that ought to be in every city. You can't just say 'blood magic bad because bad guy did it' and then turn around and say 'actually all magic is blood magic because lyium is Titan blood but it's okay for you because you're a hero'.

It's juvenile and condescending. Instead of being thought provoking and asking questions about fantasy ethics, Veilguard presents you with a simplified trolley problem with one track and a timetabled departure. You don't get to think about anything yourself because the lore is completely overshadowed by the irreverent narrative of Veilguard. It just bulldozes the world building and doesn't stop to answer questions.

The Tevinter mages buried the elven city of Arlathan and enslaved the whole race for a thousand years. The entire Andrastian faith is based on a woman inspiring elven slaves to rise up and join her armies as she marched on Tevinter and specifically Minrathous. The allegory for Jesus/Joan of Arc in this world was killed by a Tevinter mage for daring to empower slaves. Yet, this is only explained in some optional codex entries in game.

And when characterising Solas, the game keeps yapping on about how he freed slaves or fought against slavers and tyranny, and we see… what? Some broken chains on the ground in the opening sequence with no sign of a living being having existed there at any time. We get one weird flashback where we have to save the slaves! Then we open a gate and there’s three elves in there happy to escape Elger’nan and the game suddenly code switches to call them 'captives'. Which is it?

Were they slaves or were they captives?

It's the same story in Minrathous. You see a couple of NPCs that were kidnapped and were going to be sold to Venatori for ????? evil reasons. But they're not slaves. They're 'captives' or 'prisoners'.

The only time you really see the concept of slavery in play is in a mission to rescue some Dalish elves from being sacrificed in Elger'nan's big scary ritual. We see slaves being used for laughs to make the bad guys seem comically bad, heads bowed and being forced onto all fours to act like living chairs for the Venatori. You can't talk to these people. You can only listen to what their evil masters are saying so you hate them more.

Haha. So funny. I'm glad we can make light of this instead of treating it like a serious issue.

What's worse, your companion, Neve, pretends to be a Venatori cultist during this mission, while you and some other companion, in my case Bellara, are her entourage. There’s a brief exchange where Neve pretends to be a snobby caricature of a Tevinter mage and the guard is so stupid he lets you through without any cross examination despite also being Venatori? Again, they didn’t explain the social order of mages in Tevinter so I’m assuming Neve pretended to be an Altus mage and this guy is Laetans at best. But you get to pat Neve on the back for the horrible weight she had to endure - pretending to be a bad person (yuck!)

And then you rescue the Dalish and everyone is like, yaaay Solas.

Seriously?

We did all that work for 10 NPCs without names thanking Rook for being their saviour?

There was an Archdemon to fight right there! *points across the bay*

There was an Elven God right there!

By the way, did you know that the Old Gods of Tevinter were actually just dragons enslaved by the Elven gods? Yeah, those cool evil Archdemons that started this whole Blight business in Thedas were somehow bound by the Evanuris with (blood) magic. We see some graffiti about it in the opening scene while chasing after Solas in as they say - foreshadowing~~

So each Elven God/Evanuris had a dragon/archdemon who was bound to them apparently. And the God was immortal until you slew their dragon which I would argue makes you iMortal+ *

*T&Cs apply.

But how convenient, right? The elven gods are bad. They’re also controlling Tevinter’s Old Gods that are also bad. They also started a war with the Titans and killed them and made their dreams so angry they turned into an evil plague. And once the Titans were destroyed, they split into thousands of… *checks notes*... dwarves. The Titans were thousands of dwarves in a trenchcoat, and their blood is… Lyrium.

Wait a second… We’ve been doing blood magic this whole flippin’ time?! Just mining the corpses of Titans for calcified magic blood?

Cool.

Cool, cool, cool.

I’m glad everyone has been twisting my arm about this since Dragon Age Origins. Merill was fucking right. Justice for Merill from DA2! Where is she btw? You know, the Dalish elf that figured out that blood magic was just magic? That spirits and demons were all just spirits and equally dangerous? That Eluvians were incredibly rare magical artifacts that let you basically teleport everywhere? Shame the one she found was blighted but she cured it somehow! Merill the real MVP of this franchise. And do we see this amazing companion return and give us a humble ‘I told you so’?

Absolutely not.

Solas just tells you the bad guys are the bad guys and they did all this bad stuff and they don’t regret it and he imprisoned them because they suck. In fact, it’s Solas’s fault none of us have magic anymore and you have to ‘live through’ a bunch of flashbacks of Solas leading a rebellion against the Evanuris. Which would have been cool if more than five character models could be on the screen at any one time. The rallying cries to the armies of spirits and elves felt so awkward. It was just me and Jerith from Accounting exchanging side-eye.

The awful thing is that there’s brilliance in the way the first three games set up the world to work on biased information that wasn’t really correct yet everyone believed it thanks to the prevalence of the Chantry/Church. And if the writers on Veilguard had done a better job, all of these revelations would be devastating. I’m talking KOTOR reveal level of mind blowing. Maybe they got close on Dread Wolf before they pulled the plug? We’ll never know.

Because all we got was - the bad Elves are actually bad for everyone (except the Qunari). They did everyone dirty (except the Qunari) so you can all come together to defeat them and feel good about it and there’s no reason to feel conflicted or look into it any deeper. And all the elves are totally on board with killing their Gods for some reason. This isn’t a divisive issue for anyone. No one joins Solas even though he’s also an elven God. And the only people who join the Evanuris are tyrants and bullies as Solas tells Rook. What a coincidence - that’s all of our enemies! Thank goodness no people we actually like end up siding with the Bad Guys. Phew.

Because the pantheon of Elven Gods aka the Evanuris aka the Illuminati, not the Illuminati from the beginning of this rant mind you, but the sub-Illuminati controlled by the Executors, so I guess the Evanuris are like the Anti-Vaxxers of this world. Anyway, the Evanuris are apparently responsible for the Blight, the Old Gods, the Titans dying and subsequently the dwarves’ existence AND… Andraste! The Jesus/Joan of Arc allegory was apparently possessed by an elven god - Mythal - and secretly led the elven people to rebel against their masters.

Couldn't have been the brutal conditions of slavery in Thedas. Nope. Gotta be the Evanuris.

And there’s only two of them in the game - Ghilan’nain and Elger’nan. And Mythal who they murdurlated and is kinda dead now but still possessing Morrigan (don’t worry! It’s good possession because there was consent!)

Plus, Solas who isn’t really Evanuris but is implied to have been ‘close’ with Mythal and the game crassly tells you they were ‘doing it’ through Taash’s mouth. Anyway, Solas woke up from Uthenera and chose violence which is why we’re now in hot water. But that still only amounts to 3.5 Evanuris? I guess the devs ran out of time because there’s all these statues of Elven gods around. Should be 9 in total. 7 according to the statues.

Hm.

It seems Bioware tried to do Endgame but only 3.5 Avengers showed up and not even the good ones.

Wait, I’m forgetting the Forgotten Ones!

Ironic. Yeah, the Evanuris did a war on these other elves that are even more evil than them and they all got banished to the Abyss? We only see one of the Forgotten ones - Anaris - and kill him immediately because he’s trying to make elves into Demons for 'reasons'. And we tell Mythal we killed him and she says, ‘oh shit. I hate that dude. Respect. Here, have a piece of my soul, homie.’

A measured response.

Also, Ghilly and Elger’bum love the Blight. You know, the nasty magic zombie virus that makes you puke black blood and your eyes turn red and weird necrotic flesh grows out of your body. They think it’s beautiful! Can’t get enough. And like all toxic white people with too much power and plastic surgery, the Evanuris decided to share this gift with everyone, whether they like it or not.

I’m not gonna lie, I think Ghilan’nain has one of the coolest character designs I’ve ever seen. I love how she moves like a squid and slaps dragons together to create better monsters. Conceptually? 10/10. Artists, you did so so good on this. I love you long time, mwah. But the writing? Hnnnnnn….

If you were going to do this whole ‘Elven Gods = Evil’ thing, you really needed to make it feel epic and grandiose. It’s a big reveal to DA fans who’ve been sucking on the teet of ‘Elven Gods = Good’ lore of the previous games. We already got a bit of a slap in the face (literally) when Solas removed the Vallaslin because it was a ‘slave brand’ so it’s not a stretch to go: Elven Gods? Were a bit fucked up actually. That’s believable. But Evanuris did 9/11 is so… I can’t even with this.

Since DA1, we've heard stories of Ghilan’nain - Andruil’s chosen - the woman who was so devoted to animals she stood up to a hunter and was mutilated for her troubles. She was turned into a white Halla by Andruil and elevated to the status of goddess for her devotion. The Dalish pray to Ghilan’nain when they travel to find their way faster. In Veilguard, we see only the ugly squid abomination she’s become when corrupted by the Blight. It makes it easy to hate her. To accept a black and white narrative of 'Bad Guy bad' when they’re right in front of you. Especially if this is your first Dragon Age game.

The only companion that comments on the cognitive dissonance is Bellara and she becomes an allegory for white guilt. 'Oh no, our gods were evil and now they're doing all this evil stuff! However can I - a manic pixie dream girl - ever come to grips with this concept? Good thing the Elven Gods are carrying the plague so I don't have to think about joining them!' And this attitude ultimately culminates in her decision to erase the Archive that records her people's entire history??? Tell me you're a neocon without telling me you're a neocon. Yikes.

There are ways to give these narrative decisions meaning without immediately dumping the weight of the world on one companion's shoulders! And it's not having the Veil Jumpers say 'Oh shit!' every time you say Elger'nan. Davrin doesn't even seen to care since it's the Blight and he's a Grey Warden before he's a Dalish elf apparently.

Like, we hear Davrin tell the tale of Andruil the Huntress and by the end of the conversation with the team, he just calmly accepts the fact that she may have discovered and spread the Blight to Thedas. Stone-faced. As he carves an action figure out of wood. Where is the emotion, Dav? Where is the devastation? Or denial? Disbelief? Betrayal? Why are we all like, 'yeah, Solas is Fen'Harel, what about it?'

I want you to be as devastated about this as I am. And I’m Some Asshole from the real world. If you have a tattoo on your face because you thought Joan of Arc was cool, and it turns out Joan enslaved her own people and created a super plague she used to make monsters out of your friends’ meat, you would feel a way about it!!!

The dialogue and emotions of the characters feel so wooden and unbelievable. Like they're not inhabiting Thedas but your own little world in the middle of nowhere where none of this is real.

And they feel so out of time. Mostly because Veilguard is almost exclusively written in modern Simple English but sometimes the characters will say something that sounds like it belongs in an after school special. Like something a government employee responsible for writing mental health mandates imagines a person that’s been to therapy might sound like. Like if you googled how to talk to someone having trouble with their mental health and went to wikihow, especially in companion interactions, you would get Veilguard dialogue. This makes most of the conversations feel jarring and inauthentic and combined with a thick US accent that feels straight out of Hollywood, you get cutscenes that feel like you’re watching the CW.

Just as an exercise, count how many times this dialogue shows up:

“Are you alright?” / “Are you okay?” / “Everything okay?”

**Character turns away dramatically**

“I’m fine.” / “It's fine.” / “I'll be alright.”

Funnily enough, this is not how people are supposed to sound in the high fantasy world of Dragon Age. At least not according to three AAA titles, not to mention all the books, TTRPGs, anime and even comics in the Dragon Age universe, since the different regions of Thedas are roughly based on real life places. Like Orlais is DA France/the Vatican, Ferelden is Anglo-Saxon England, the Tevinter Imperium - Roman Empire, Antiva - Italy/Spain, the Anderfels - Germany/Eastern Europe, Par Vollen - Ottoman Empire, Rivain - Moorish Spain, Nevarra - Prussia/Hungary/the spooky part of Romania.

Not to be the person that says you need fake accents and racism in your RPG game but you're telling me you got MATTHEW MERCER - the king of role playing games - Dungeon Master extraordinaire - and you couldn't get half a Europe's worth of accents out of him? You paid him to hiss into a microphone and make monosyllabic skeleton sounds for Manfred? ( I love him btw) Way to make use of those seasoned VA chops! I'm glad the Viper had such riveting dialogue as “Did we win?“ that I didn't even recognise him as Mercer until the final battle.

Like... the whole appeal of Dragon Age was exploring a world like Tolkien's Lord of the Rings but different and new. Part of that was the buy in - the immersion - role playing. Much like in Dungeons and Dragons which can take place exclusively in the mind’s eye through oral storytelling, sometimes a voice or an archaic choice of words, a turn of phrase, or an accent, can bring a character to life and give them the complexity of time and place and personal beliefs, fleshing them out in three dimensions and adding some texture to the world.

Veilguard is capable of this!

Think of Antoine and Evka from the Grey Wardens. You can tell Antoine is from Orlais and Evka is from Orzammar just by their voices, speech patterns and accents. You know Evka is casteless by the brand on her face which means she had it rough in the dwarven city. She had very few options and becoming a Grey Warden, though difficult, may have been an improvement on her life quality.

Same with Antoine. An elf in Orlais is a second class citizen, a servant or a slave. No Vallaslin means he’s not Dalish. The Grey Wardens were probably a better path for him. This is good character design and execution. We only need to hear a few sentences from Antoine and Evka to buy in. They belong in Thedas. But why are they the exception?

Why are most of the characters in Veilguard two dimensional at best? If you look at the VAs on the cast, it's absolutely not a question of talent. It's the writing and direction that makes Veilguard's dialogue such a let down. Not only is it oversimplified and modern, it sounds like they used the first take on most of these lines! And the first draft on all of these stories.

I mean, this is Dragon Age! Think Lords of the Rings! Think of a world with different languages for elves and dwarves and even words for things in English. In previous games, you learned them organically as they came up in conversation or codex entries. You learned who came from where based on how people spoke. No one was breaking character and saying things like 'what's up?' or 'okay' or 'wow' or 'I would kill for coffee' or 'non-binary'.

These are incredibly modern terms and phrases, and you are supposedly living in the Middle Ages inside an ancient bastion of magic. It’s not Hi, it’s Greetings. It’s not God, it’s the Maker. It’s not sir, it’s ser (gender neutral). We completely lose Ser in Veilguard because they bring in Ma'am halfway through!

To be clear, there are in-world examples of non-binary characters and identities and Veilguard even uses 'aqun-athlok' - the Qunari term for someone that doesn't identify with the gender assigned at their birth. But they do this in the most condescending USAmerican way of like, 'oh, the Native Americans call it ‘two-spirit’ - 'The Qunari call these people aqun-athlok'.

It feels disingenuous, inauthentic and just plain uncomfortable to be there. Again, we are being told instead of shown, which is Veilguard's cardinal sin. What would have been cool is if Taash went on a journey to discover other aqun-athlok or the Rivaini equivalent, and Rook could accompany them to learn more about it.

Instead, Neve suggests that Taash go to Minrathous??? The city Dorian Pavus famously fled because his homophobic father tried to use blood magic to make him straight? Really, Neve? That's the bastion of queer acceptance you want to recommend to someone as raw and inexperienced as Taash? An underground organisation based in a racist city of people still at war with the Qunari Antaam???

And we don't even get to go with them!

It all happens off screen, even if you’re a Shadow Dragon. I would kill to do something in Minrathous other than chasing Venatori around stinky old Dock Town. Why do I have to go to the same bloody tavern with Neve three times but there's no non-binary NPC I could talk to in there?!

You get the nasty Governor Ivenci in Treviso that negs you every time you pass them in the Grande Market. The only decent NB NPC I found outside of Taash is a healer named Flynn in the village of Lavendel in the Anderfels. Evka sends you on a quest to find their mentor in the alps and later, you find out that Flynn was sick with Blight and got healed by secretly becoming a Grey Warden. This was done by Evka who allowed Flynn to return to their work - healing the villagers - instead of immediately getting conscripted to fight Darkspawn as a Grey Warden normally would.

What a cool idea! Using the Grey Warden ritual (blood magic) to save someone from the Blight, albeit for a short time, but doing it in secret because you know the Grey Wardens have strict rules about this. What an act of compassion on Evka's part that speaks to her personality. And what a reflection on Flynn that they stayed in Lavendel instead of running away once they were cured.

But you never find out what the Ander term for 'non-binary' is. We don't find out what the reaction to this kind of person is in that society is, positive or negative. Instead, Flynn hand-waves it all with a throwaway line - 'my mentor helped me with my non-binary stuff'.

STUFF?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Your entire gender identity and the consequences of it is just... STUFF??

The amount of times this game uses the word 'stuff', particularly in the second half, absolutely kills immersion dead.

Which brings us to the next cardinal sin of Veilguard - it doesn't take itself seriously.

Everything is just 'stuff'. The main quest? To kill the Elven Gods you unleashed? The super Blight that's ravaging the South? That's all funny and we can make jokes about it like we’re sarcastic purple Hawke. Haha. And you know what, let's just put it all on hold and go take care of our own personal business first. I'm sure coffee is more important than Treviso being overrun by Antaam and darkspawn and plague.

At one point, the main story quest is to 'check in' with the broody assassin and the grumpy grey warden because they had a disagreement during a meeting. Not for any Elven God apocalypse business, but simply to see how they're doing and talk about their personal problems like you’re the HR rep at Godkillers Incorporated. You’re not here to help raise an army using the connections of their respective factions, but to further their personal vendettas and chase after targets that won't matter if the whole world is Blighted.

At one point, you get back from Weisshaupt, having defeated two dragons and a cool darkspawn hydra monster. You kill an archdemon and make an Elven God bleed, for Maker’s sake! And Neve has the fucking nuts to say 'There's trouble in Dock Town.'

BINCH!

There's not gonna be a Dock Town if we don't take care of this APOCALYPSE!

This rubbed me so bad I had to stop playing and begin this rant.

I thought it couldn't get any worse but then I went on Harding's quest to find Valta, and wouldn't you know it…

You enter Kal-Sharok, fabled dwarven city beneath the ground that was sealed centuries ago to protect against the Blight, the people inside entombed alive. Or so we thought. A recent expedition into the Deep Roads led to a shocking discovery - some of them survived!

And we meet at the tall imposing gates of the city carved into a mountain. As you follow a dwarf called Stalgard through the vast chambers inside, he tells you that the inhabitants took in some of the Blight to survive the Darkspawn incursion, becoming like the Grey Wardens.

(Let’s just ignore that the ritual kills most people and makes 99.99% of the rest sterile and gives you 20-30 years until you turn into a darkspawn yourself, so it's impossible for any of them to have survived since dwarves already have a very low fertility rate. AHEM.)

You enter the deepest chamber of Kal-Sharok. A sacred place in the stone. Lyrium - the font of magic - grows from the walls and wraps around them like veins.

(Even though physical contact with raw lyrium ore will cause serious injury and psychological damage for humans, elves, and Qunari, and any contact with the unrefined substance will kill a mage outright. But we just walk on in.)

You approach the statue of a great dwarven warrior and miracle of miracles, it glows and speaks to you in the voice of the Oracle. She tells your companion, Harding, of the Titans and their song and warns of danger - something awakening. And what does Harding do upon receiving these words of wisdom?

She throws a tantrum like a five year old. And the stoic dwarf named Stalgard actually breaks character and says, “She does that. Riddles, riddles, riddles. Oh, I'm a rock.”

It was so cringe I had to walk away from my PC and go for a run.

I know the writers were trying to be funny. But there's a way to be funny in character and in-universe. Remember Shale? Remember the unbreakable pigeon? If you can't do that, then maybe don't do Stalgard? Because it stinks of Marvel Cinematic Universe screenwriting where they stop to point out how lame superheroes are despite being a franchise that revolves entirely around superheroes.

If you don't like Dragon Age and high fantasy, then don't write Dragon Age and high fantasy. Don't take jobs where you're expected to write Tolkien when the best you can do is Madame Web. Or, if the lead writer/director is the one spearheading this change, then I think we have bigger problems.

It's clear that the demographic the writers are appealing to is vastly different to the original and even Dragon Age: Inquisition. Veilguard is trying to tell this highly sanitized PC story that’s inclusive of newer younger players who don't know the lore, and probably don't care. They're here to play dress up, get their pronouns sorted and make their Rook kiss an NPC. All fine goals! The problem is - the world doesn’t react to your being there. You get a surface level aesthetic facade of choice and the exact same playthrough as everyone else. Because you can't write a perfect 'uwu all my friends live in a lighthouse' AU in the nuanced morally grey world of Thedas without drawing a curtain over the established setting, lore and characters.

It's incredibly obvious to a long-time fan that you’re covering up the controversial and problematic parts of Thedas to make sure no one gets offended while playing. Veilguard appeals to the delicate sensibilities of a purity police poisoned populace and needs deliver a highly polished centrist narrative with no bite and nothing to say other than SLAVERY BAD. It won’t even give you the choice to disagree! None of the dialogue options let you flat out object to what's being said, disrupt the conversation, or start a fight.

It’s incredibly jarring when compared with past games which offered a broad range of moral choices, regardless of the player’s personal ethics, sometimes with disastrous consequences but the freedom to role play as you saw fit. And it challenged you to think about your decisions whether they were good or bad, whether the ends justified the means.

Dragon Age has always been about grey morality. It’s not even subtle about it. They’re called the Grey Wardens for a reason. It’s about making the hard choices where there are no easy answers. It's about making sure the Blight and every other disaster is stopped. It's about making sacrifices for the greater good. About being the only person there at the time. It’s about the love that was there but it didn’t magically save everyone. It’s about hindsight and finding out information after you've made a difficult decision, then going back and replaying the game because of regret or because you want to see what would happen if you’d known. It’s about having the option to do something terrible and clicking it just to see what happens. It’s about the game getting harder or easier based on how much of a jerk/edgelord you are and whether you can live with your sins despite this being a videogame. Because that’s what this is - a safe space to explore morality without real world consequence.

We see brief attempts to replicate that in Veilguard. Like with Minrathous vs Treviso. It's a big decision the game forces you to make waaay too early in the story to make it meaningful. You choose which city gets your direct intervention against a blighted dragon attack.

Your choices are: the racist mage city or, the city home to a bunch of assassins with no standing army that’s already under occupation and is heavily implied to be in far more dire straits.

Unless you’re from Minrathous, you’re highly incentivised to help Treviso. And the game almost assumes you will. Because if you pick Treviso, the Shadow Dragon hideout in Minrathous is completely destroyed, the environment changed and individual members are publicly killed and hung on the streets. The Viper is infected with the blight and the Venatori storm the Archon's Palace and take over the city.

Meanwhile, if you pick Minrathous, the Cantori Diamond in Treviso remains standing. You lose a few people in it to the blight but this is so early in the game that you may not even know these people yet. Some turn into darkspawn and the game expects you to care about them but if you were assuming that the urgent story quest was urgent, you were mistaken. The game waggles its finger and points at all the side quests you didnt do by making you make this decision and locking off anything you were planning to do. This big big choice happens at the end of a recruitment mission for Davrin so you either have to lose all your progress and go back or live with the game's stupid pacing decisions.

Meanwhile, you don’t control ANYTHING that’s happening in the South.

Morrigan invites you to meet the Inquisitor at a tavern in Minrathous and tells you that most of the South is under siege by Darkspawn.

ARE YOU SHITTING ME?

Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain have restricted their activities to the North but deployed their forces to the South????? And the Inquisitor wearing my Shadow Dragon pyjamas is the only thing holding back the Blight???

What the actual fuck? or as Rook says more politely, “If the South is in such turmoil then why did you come up here just to talk?”

Darkspawn have cut through the center of Orlais???? Val Royeaux and Halamshiral are barely holding out??? Denerim is lost????? They’re holding the line at Redcliffe with help from Orzammar???

I am losing my mind.

The Free Marches have the worst of it??? Acting Viscount Aveline Vallen??? has led an evacuation of Kirkwall???? She’s taking her people and what’s left of her army to help Prince Vael keep Starkhaven???

Why would she ever help Sebastian keep Starkhaven??

Doesn’t matter. Because according to the Inquisitor, The South is the Inquisitor’s problem! Rook has to stop the Gods and the Inquisitor deals with the Blight. Oh, and here's a cool statuette that reminds me of Solas :)

Okay, putting aside the way they rattled off a bunch of names for the fans and immediately said all your faves are screwed. Why is the Blight down in the South if the Elven Gods awakened in the North? They make the Red Lyrium dagger in the North. Elgar’nan’s Archdemon and Ghilan'nain's rises in the North. Elgar'nan takes Minrathous - in the North.

Maybe if the other seven Evanuris were awakened simultaneously and attacked the South, I would believe it. Is that what the Dread Wolf was gonna be about? Did they scrap the game where the Evanuris were all attacking Thedas at once?

Or is this an intentional move by the writers to wipe the slate clean for future games? Can’t have any problematic old lore and beloved characters getting in the way of our nothingburger of a story, now can we? Let’s just destroy it all so we don’t have to think about it… and neither do our players.

>:(

I’m so mad.

And while the South burns, Rook gets to make inconsequential decisions until the end of time.

Such as:

Fight the Venatori vs Smooth-talk the Barkeep

Both end with a cutscene that you don’t control and you get the information you need.

Your methods are never addressed again.

Disagree with Varric vs Support Varric talking down Solas

Varric goes to talk down Solas anyway.

This is ‘remembered’ by the illusion of Varric in your head in one line of dialogue several minutes later.

It is never addressed again.

Neve vs Harding follow you into greater danger

One of them gets hurt during the debacle with Solas. They have a cosmetic scar for the rest of the game and never talk about it again.

Save vs Kill the Mayor of D’Meta’s Crossing

This has no bearing on the story whatsoever. A one time approval bump and then never again do we see or hear from the piece of shit that sold out his whole village which are now Blighted puppets of the Evanuris. No one explains how he 'sold out' either, probably blood magic. That's always the excuse.

Punch the First Warden vs Reason with him at Weisshaupt

This is such a deus ex machina. Because if you choose to reason with him, you conveniently notice the blood dribbling out of his ear and make a Sherlock Holmes level assumption about the Calling. This is something Grey Wardens experience once enough time has passed since their Joining. It's basically the end of your life as you know it as you slowly transform into a Darkspawn. Grey Wardens walk into the Deep Roads when they hear the Calling but the First Warden has held on for longer than he should have and gotten a bit mixed up in the brain. You should not have knowledge of this unless you are a Grey Warden yourself so fuck whatever Background you pick, it doesn't matter. You say some rousing words about becoming the leader who defied a God and suddenly, the First Warden admits you were right and he wasn’t. Just a complete 180 and he's on your side.

THE RESULT IS THE SAME. He sends you to the dragon trap.

If you punch the First Warden and knock him out, Evka stands up for you as next in command and sends you to… you guessed it - the dragon trap. No matter what, the First Warden goes to stab the Archdemon and gets pwned.

You see him later during Davrin’s personal quest, fully Blighted. He’s either sane and suffering or insane and profane. Either way, you can’t save him. All you can do is end his misery. And it’s so frustrating because he has dialogue! He tells you to look for a feather that belonged to Isseya's griffon, it's the only thing she stops to look at with emotion. But the game completely ignores this and doesn't give you an optional marker for it. It just says 'Confront Isseya'. And that's it!

Like… the illusion of choice is infuriating!

None of your decisions have any meaning. There's no lasting consequences. You never lose a companion due to your pre-finale choices. You never lose a faction. Even if you pick the worst nastiest dialogue option on the wheel the whole way through, it doesn't matter. Rook will still says something affirmative and the game continues on its merry way, railroading you into the predetermined story.

There's no way you're not reaching the end. And that’s the only place where you’ll be penalized for not taking Daisy for a walk. I mean, going to dinner with Taash’s mother. Did I mention that?

The game forces you to be there when Taash comes out to their mother as non-binary in your own kitchen and I cannot express how much I did not want to be present for that conversation. In my wildest nightmares, I would not dream of inviting my boss to a coming out dinner with my conservative mother in the office kitchen.

Why in the Fade would I want to experience this awkwardness in game when I just met Taash and I'm not romancing them. And I’m technically their boss? This feels like the most basic and degrading representation of the queer experience. I’d expect something like this from Glee. And I’m forced to sit there and watch this trainwreck of a dialogue. The game will not give me the option to say NO, not as a friend and not as an employer. Forget evil playthrough, this is just plain setting boundaries. Why can’t Rook say NO?

When I picked up the cool fire breathing dragon-hunting non-binary qunari companion, I thought we would be getting someone along the lines of Krem and Iron Bull from Dragon Age Inquisition. I thought we would be hunting dragons or participating in fighting tournaments, and the non-binary stuff would maybe come up over drinks and maybe there'd be one non-combat mission where you go meet their crew and see how telling them goes.

Instead, it's a 30/70 split between the cool stuff and the whiny cutscenes about not liking dresses and wrapping yourself up in weird bondage rope. Like, yeah, Taash. It is weird. Maybe don’t do it if it makes you feel uncomfortable. Especially when you’re in the Lighthouse and not living with your mom.

I get it, it's a ham-handed metaphor for being of both worlds but neither. Qunari and Rivaini, man and woman, yet neither, or both. But instead of starting at a place of questioning, we're introduced to Taash as a badass dragon hunter, who then very suddenly loses all sense of self and identity.

Rook: "So you've got no problem fighting other Qunari?" Taash: "I'm from Rivain. Not like I follow the Qun." Rook: "You've got the arm ropes." Taash: "Sure. I wear a lot of stuff. You don't get to tell me who I am."

Cool, right? And then again, immediately, Taash stands up to the Antaam poachers.

Taash: "Hey! I brought her down! She's mine by right!" Poacher, in Qunlat: "You are no warrior." Taash, in rough Qunlat: "You don't get to tell me who I am." - breathes fire and roasts him alive -

Badass. Again, asserting themself as whatever they wanna be. But then they turn around and ask you, a stranger, whether they should be more Qunari or Rivaini. You don't get a choice about the non-binary stuff. But the cultural stuff seems to be something you get to choose? Why? And why can't they be both? Tell me you've never met a multicultural person in your life. Newsflash: People have multiple parents. They can be raised in polar opposite ways simultaneously. Yet it's been distilled into a binary choice - Qunari or Rivaini. Which just smacks of hypocrisy after making the character non-binary.

And the whole coming out scene with the mother. I did it twice just to see what happens if you make Taash be more Qunari and Shathann accuses you of meddling so the Qunari can soften up Taash to the Qun and take her away. This woman is insufferable. Because if you romance Taash, she'll say you're a bad influence too. But hey, she comes around RIGHT BEFORE SHE DIES. That's all that's important, right?

The fact that none of this is optional once you talk to a companion really grinds my gears. I didn't know what they were gonna say when I walked up to them the first time. I saw a big exclamation mark over their icon and I thought it was important. Even when it's a little grey clock icon, they'll end up giving you a mission. I didn't know I was automatically going to get a quest whether I wanted to do it or not.

And you can't leave or untrack a quest, so you just walk into the kitchen and boom! Now you’re having awkward dinner with Taash and her conservative mother. And after she gets up and leaves the table you have to reassure Taash about the whole situation? Like, why is that my job?

It feels like Rook is everyone's lap dop, mother and personal therapist. Not only do the companions dump their emotional baggage and problems on you but Rook just readily accepts it like you're not literally fighting God at the same time there's an evil magic plague with dragons and shit devouring the world.

The only person who cares about Rook’s health is Emmrich, and Varric, but he’s dead. (Emmrich can also be undead)

Honestly, Varric’s death didn't bother me as much as everyone else. I never particularly liked him and getting stabbed in the heart with a Lyrium dagger seems pretty fatal to me. I was actually mad when he showed up alive in the infirmary minutes later. Like, way to cheapen the moment he got stabbed with an immediate cop out. And then at the end of the game you find out he actually DID die and Solas is just being a prick. And the game still asked you to sympathize with him despite all the shit he did.

I feel like multiple people wrote Solas and he comes off majorly polarized as a result. He flip flops between right and wrong, regret and conviction, all the way to the very end. And it’s clear they tried to make him the morally grey sigma male but he just ends up feeling stupid.

I never empathized with Solas. I tried romancing him in Inquisition to get more lore but it just doesn’t matter. He keeps doing more bad things to justify the bad things he’s already done, and Veilguard tries to make him sympathetic in the worst way. Your whole team gathers around the table to explain his Memories to you like you didn't just watch them. It feels so condescending, voyeuristic and unnecessary. Like a fanfic that couldn’t figure out how to make the big bad sympathetic so it threw in some flashbacks. And why? For the secret third ending, SssHhhh.

Mythal’s alive! Kinda. Her spirit was broken into lots of pieces and one of them can be yours for a limited time. But only if you watch all of Solas’s Funniest Home Videos. Morrigan shows up to explain that she also has a piece of Mythal and most of her memories but doesn’t help you do the thing. Thanks, babe. Glad you and your mom figured things out- wait. Didn’t we kill Flemeth before she could transfer- hold on, what’s the timeline for these memories? You talked to Flemeth-Mythal? 👉And agreed to accept the memories before you ran away and met the HoF? I thought- 👆you left- 👉and then we killed- 👈But she was back in DA2- 👉Solas took her powers in Inquisition???🤷‍♀️

What are you saying Morrigan? Are we retconning Dragon Age Origins? Also, where is your son?

I’m so confused. Glad this doesn’t matter. Like all of your decisions.

Morrigan comes and unlocks the third ending for you. It was hidden behind these brambles in the Crossroads you find at the start of the game. Imagine if Rook had a weedwacker and some Round Up. The game would be a fraction of its length. The Blight could be readily cured with pesticides. But as it is, you go through the secret hole and find a spot where a bit of Mythal’s spirit hangs out. She says she still helps by possessing humans like Andraste to guide her people.

Why humans though?

Not important. Nothing is important in this game. And none of your decisions matter. Don't look too closely. Don't analyse anythng or you'll miserable like me.

If you get the little Mythal statuette (because that’s how I would give you a piece of my soul) then Morrigan shows up at the end of the game, right before the final battle.

I almost had a heart attack.

Because I remember the end of Dragon Age Origins.

Morrigan comes to the Hero of Ferelden on the eve of battle and explains that she knows a ritual that can transfer the soul of an Archdemon to the foetus in her womb if she has sex with the Grey Warden that slays it. And you have to choose between:

slay the Archdemon and let its essence kill you

make someone else slay the Archdemon and get killed

have sex with Morrigan before you kill the Archdemon to make an eldritch dragon God baby with her

force Alistair or another Grey Warden to have sex with Morrigan and then kill the Archdemon to have the eldritch dragon God baby

Additionally, if Alistair is the future king of Ferelden, this baby may be the only way he gets an heir because fertility is so low among Grey Wardens. So you have to consider the power vacuum Alistair will leave behind when he dies childless, destabilizing Ferelden and leaving it weak and open to attacks from Orlais like his half-brother Cailin Theirin did. Discounting whether or not you romanced Alistair.

You could also just get Anora to be Queen.

You see what I mean about complexity and nuance?

The fact that you could lose Alistair or Morrigan as a companion so close to the end of DA1 and your arch enemy could join the party instead?? Insane, both narratively and mechanically. And in DA2, you could just straight up sell your companion, Fenris, back into slavery if you wanted. It was genuinely fucked up. Your team lost its tank and you got a bunch of gold. But that freedom was incredible. We lost it a bit in Inquisition. Mages vs Templars was a no brainer. Who gets the throne of Orlais? I was rooting for toxic lesbians but I guess we got to pick the new pope? It all amounted to nothing, of course, because Veilguard chose to ignore everything you ever did.

The only comparable decision it allows you to make is the choice of the new Archon: Dorian Pavus or Maevaris Tilani.

Does it make a difference?

Only to the single title card they play for you at the end of the game. And you don't get any epilogue. Did they succeed in changing Racism City? We'll never know.

I would argue the most morally grey decision you can make in Veilguard is whether your companion Emmrich becomes a Lich.

Now, if you've played any amount of Dungeons and Dragons, you'll know that a Lich is an evil wizard that killed someone, did a ritual and now they're an immortal skeleton person with glowy green/red light for eyes and cool powers. But don't worry! Veilguard has made becoming a Lich morally fine and good, actually 👍

See, you don't have to kill anyone. You just get your coworker to stab you dead and your boss does a quick ritual which strips your flesh, makes a phylactery and you're sorted. Immortal wizard skeleton lich powers are yours to command. It's more of a promotion, really. You just have to pass this arbitrary morality test that we administer. (Don't worry about it.) But you can't raise your already dead skeleton son back from the extra dead, even though you’re a necromancer. Otherwise, where will it end? *clutches my Lich Lord pearls*

Anyway, Professor Emmrich Volkarin, Necromancer, Death Mage and noted Fade expert, 55 years old, turns to you and says, 'Rook, you should decide whether I resurrect my beautiful skeleton son that's just begun to talk and is voiced by Matt Mercer, OR, if I should go through with my entire life's work, get that uber promotion at the funeral director's home and become a Lich Lord that potentially puppets the King of Nevarra. I will have no say in this and you can't let me make my own decision. I simply won't give you a dialogue option for it.'

And the game is like, what should he dooOOooo??? As though everyone in the new demographic isn't gonna pick 'stay human and resurrect Manfred'. I mean, he’s a heroic little skeleton boy and I love him dearly but this is clearly not up to me or you. Emmrich should be mature enough to make a decision on his own.

There’s a lot more nuance to this whole thing that I wish was discussed but if you choose to save Manfred, that’s all Rook talks about - the value of Manfred’s undead life - his potential. Not the imminent death of Emmrich even though he believes he will become immortal as a lich. Not the loss of his senses or his humanity which he seems convinced will remain. And especially not the fact that once he’s a lich, he will have his phylactery stored in the Grand Necropolis. Myrna carries it out after the ceremony. Sure, this might be preferable to giving your phylactery to some templars or the chantry. But if Emmrich disagrees with the Lich Lords, he can be suppressed or even lose his free will and die anyway.

We don’t discuss the specifics of Emmrich’s condition past a few brief comments on how he has extra senses for spirits and the Fade. But he says it will be much harder to get killed as a Lich before the final battle so it means it’s still possible. He could become a Lich and still die. And for a guy terrified of death, it feels like a great moment of conflict. If you romance Emmrich, he tells you to stay behind so you won’t die and he won’t have to mourn you forever. There’s no way to reassure him because the dialogue wheel is an illusion of choice. You’re going to have a disagreement and spit back something insensitive like ‘I’m not going to be afraid of dying just because you are.’ Them’s just the breaks in Veilguard. All options lead to railroad.

Anyway, I think Emmrich's decision has the most nuance you get in Veilguard. Mostly by accident. There should have been a tonne more, of course, but at this point, beggars can't be choosers. If you pick Lich promotion, Emmrich turns into a skeleton man in a cool robe and a crown and then you have to have an awkward scene where he has to ‘come out’ to the party as a Lich. And Taash has to ruin it with their blunt insensitive dialogue. We can’t take anything seriously in this game. -sigh-

But Manfred is gone. Forever. It's not like he did anything in combat so I don't lose any firepower but I do miss him. Manfred isn't important to the story after his heroic final act so there's no political fallout but it does feel like you lost a member of the team.

The other companion decisions don’t hold as much weight because they lead to similar if not identical outcomes to their counterparts

Bellara keeps the archive spirit VS frees it (loses the knowledge)

This seems to me like a no-brainer. Freeing the archive spirit and losing all that knowledge to enforce blissful ignorance is a terrible choice. I guess it’s nice to have the option after going through so much of the game with barely any. But it seems out of character for Bellara to discard the thing she and Cyrian were searching for their entire lives, especially when he makes the ultimate sacrifice. You do a funeral walk and light the same braziers either way. The words Bellara says are different. She butchers the old elven stuff so it just makes you feel awkward. Again, I don't know why they're trying to make learning about your sketchy past the bad option but we know USAmericans are bit weird about the slavery.

Harding uses rage VS compassion to control the Titan’s Shade

This one has a secret third option. A romanced Rook that tries to kiss Harding gets yucky lyrium veins on their face and Harding harnesses the Titan power to remove them and save the horny Rook.

Otherwise, the three party members get together for a huddle and Harding gets control of the Titan’s Shade with rage or compassion. Either way, she keeps her earth bending powers. If it's compassion, you meet some dwarves in her next personal mission and she can share the Song of the Stone with them. If you choose rage, there's no one there. You just look out at the bones of a Titan from a snowcapped mountain.

The Griffons become Mounts for the Grey Wardens VS Guardians of Arlathan Forest

The game acts like you can restore the griffon population from a single clutch of eggs. This feels a bit weird since they’re all related but I guess beggars can’t be choosers. It’s six griffons. And I feel like you just saved them from the Blight, so sending them back to the Grey Wardens seems like a cruel and ironic fate. Couldn't you split them up, so that half go to the Wardens? In any case, they’re gonna get bred together. Assan will stay with Davrin either way, even if he sacrifices himself, Assan perishes with him.

Taash embraces her Qunari heritage or her Rivaini upbringing

This feels like a personal decision you shouldn’t be making for Taash. Sure, it’s an important step in them discovering who they are but like? I dunno what’s right for you, bud. And I feel like you can be multicultural? You can be both? Or neither? Or just take what feels good. Like, you had the right idea at the beginning when you and Rook went bird feeding.

I feel like Taash had their mom telling them what to do before, and after her death they expect Rook to tell them what to do. Either way, Taash will read the old tablet about (Adaari) firebreathers - they’re a rare genetic variant of Qunari that comes from having dragon’s blood. The tablet says they’ll be needed to fight the Devouring Storm (whatever that is).

Taash decides to help the Adaari and the Antaam because they don’t know how to live outside the Qun. They’ll seek to unify them for whatever comes next, either under the Qun and Qunari or with the Lords of Fortune. Same goal, different people. Again, why are you the one to choose?

Lucanis forgives VS condemns Illario’s betrayal

Illario doesn’t die or get killed either way. He just gets locked up if you condemn him. Lucanis is moody for a bit and becomes the First Talon anyway. If you forgive Illario, he just gets dragged away by Viago with a promise to ‘keep him out of trouble’. This mirrors Neve’s mission where Aelia just gets ‘taken away’. However, you still get the option, even if Treviso fell and Lucanis is hardened, and it’s weird that you make it for him. He talks about getting rid of Spite but we never see it happen in game. You only get the Fade/fake Ossuary run if you chose Treviso over Minrathous.

So, after 20+ hours at the minimum, we arrive at the finale. And if you did all the stupid side quests, from ‘have tea with a griffon’ to ‘murder a blood mage’, you should be ready to face the Big Bad. Again, you are railroaded into a suicide mission reminiscent of Mass Effect 2. I’m not saying it’s a rip off but it does feel oddly similar. Even the Darkspawn look like Husks from Mass Effect. However, doing your companion’s side mission would ensure they survived the finale in ME2. In Veilguard, no matter how many nug truffles you find, you will always lose at least one companion.

After an entire game of meaningless choices, this seems kind of arbitrary and unwarranted but okay, sure.

Harding or Davrin will die no matter what.

Harding will naturally be romanced by Taash if Rook doesn’t get in there, so Taash will be devastated if Harding dies. Harding is also the only dwarf that can do magic? And hears the song of the Stone? And is connected to the Titans? Plus she is a rogue so I don’t see how she’s supposed to hold off a bunch of Antaam by herself.

Davrin is a Grey Warden and built like a brick shithouse. He has a pet griffin but there is a ticking clock looming over his life that ends with him leaving for the Deep Roads to die fighting Darkspawn or becoming one himself. A family and children is biologically unlikely to happen for him for Grey Warden reasons. If Rook doesn’t romance him, he remains a good boy griffin dad, alone.

It feels cheap and nasty but Grey Wardens are about sacrifice and Davrin keeps talking about how he should have died at Weisshaupt so it kind of makes sense for Davrin to give his life to slay Ghilan’nain but it feels bad after all he’s been through. And after all the bad guys you’ve spared in Veilguard, it sucks that you have to lose someone at this stage no matter what.

The next decision is

Neve or Bellara unlock the magic wards and open the door for the party to move forward

The consequence of this is that one of them is kidnapped by Elger’nan and used to pilot the Blight in Minrathous like an organic computer. This means whoever you choose will be infected and get nasty black veins and eyes with red irises. However, if you finish the game and seal the Blight in the Fade again, then whoever you pick gets a title card and is cured? As long as they have the Hero of the Veilguard badge like a pokemon, they will survive.

The final FINAL final battle(1).psd has some more choices that are so simple it's kind of insulting.

Three guesses who should go with the assassins to assassinate the enemy of the assassins? If you guessed Lucanis, you were right! Get a mage to help the Veil Jumpers do the magic things. And a warrior to fight the big evil statue/construct.

It’s like a shape puzzle for toddlers that rewards you with a cutscene. And if each of the assigned companions have a Hero of the Veilguard badge, they are guaranteed to succeed and live. Which just makes me feel bad for Dav/Harding.

The final decision you get to make in the game is what to do about Solas.

He’s tricked you into killing Elger’nan whose soul was the only thing left binding the Veil in place so in a roundabout way, Solas succeeds in tearing down the Veil like he planned from the beginning.

You have 3 (maybe 4) choices.

Fight Solas, stab him with his dagger and bind his soul to the Veil to keep it in place. If you suck and all your friends died, then you get sucked into the Fade with him.

Trick Solas with a fake dagger Emmrich made (super unclear how/when/why you have this). Solas tries to use the fake and it backfires. You then stab him and bind his soul to the Veil, he gets yanked in like a yoyo.

IF you watched all of Solas' Funniest Home Videos and got the shard of Mythal, you can appeal to Solas’s better nature. Morrigan appears and channels Mythal who’s like- ‘Solas, you did everything I ever told you to do and it fucked you up. I’m sorry. You’re fired.’ And the Inquisitor appears to plead with him. If it’s a romanced Lavellan, they kiss and walk into the Fade.

Secret Ending. If you did the Mysterious Circle puzzles and got the Mythal Ending you too can experience blinding rage by getting the forbidden Executors cutscene

Whatever you choose, the sky closes up. The Blight is magically cured. In the end, what’s left of your party climbs down the beanstalk and gets a cheer and applause from about five NPCs and now we’re back to where this rant began.

The Illuminati.

I’m so glad we waited 15 years to be told it was all part of the Executors’ plan. And the REAL bad guys were across the sea and manipulating us all along.

What a satisfying ending /s

I hate it.

I hate this game so fucking much because it could have been so good. And instead, it was bad and rushed.

Even the romances that were soooo hyped up by the writers turned out to be less than twenty minutes long and folded into regular dialogue. You have to have most of these conversations anyway, even if you’re not romancing the character. Go on. Look up how long each romance is on Youtube.

Lucanis - 18 minutes of flat, bored, uninterested broody angsty responses and coffee talk while he makes googoo eyes at Neve

Emmrich - 18 minutes of true romance but hounded by ambient dialogue of cradle snatching from the party and an argument right before the final battle. It’s clear this romance got a lot more thought and care written in than the others. There's definitely more going on that just a confession of feelings, commitment to an exclusive relationship, and fade to black. Coffin sex? A pleasant surprise.

Davrin - 17 minutes of hunky grey warden booty with a heart of gold and a baby bird lion child. Perfect LI <3

Bellara - 18 minutes of shy awkward girl fumbling with words and eventually getting them out. Feels like Merill from DA2 but less complicated and deep. She’s definitely cute and someone’s type but very Disney princess romance

Taash - 18 minutes of wooing a moody teenager with anger issues that realises they’re non-binary, loses their mom and finds out they have some crazy destiny but handles everything like a child. Everything has to be a dragon hunting metaphor. yikes

Neve - 16 minutes of Neve who’s great but you get most of the same scenes without the romance. You trade quips and banter like in a hard boiled detective novel and then it’s over. The fact that she can get hurt and kidnapped and her city can get destroyed adds a lot to this but it’s so little.

Harding - 14 MINUTES!!! Most of it is stuff that you have to talk about as part of her quest. You could have done so much more with the lyrium sting it gave Rook but they didn’t.

To compare, Solas’s romance in Inquisition was around 17 minutes long if you don’t count all the dialogue you can have by just talking to him. You can’t do that in Veilguard because you can’t just walk up to a companion and talk to them. It has to be a cutscene with extremely limited lines, or it’s ambient dialogue that's dripfed to you every time you return to the lighthouse. If you count every single conversation you can have with your companions in Inquisition, then each romance is at least an hour long!

In Veilguard, you can’t even walk up to your LI and ask for a kiss! >:(

I am so angry. I'm only going to play it five more times.

I need to know more about Elger'nan and Ghilan'nain. Why didn't we learn more about their origin story? About their plans? Why did they need the Blight when Elger'nan just showed up in Arlathan and all the Venatori were ready to bend the knee? They could have just walked up to Minrathous with Lusacan and Razikale and been met with uproarious cheers. And how did he move the moon? How did he just do an eclipse? How did that not drown the entire fucking world? Is Thedas flat earth?

Why the Titans? What happened? Why did they have magic? Was it different? Why did the spirits/elves want it? If the Evanuris were the first elves then are modern elves technically related? Can they all trace their lineage back to them? Where are the other Elven Gods? Are they sealed away forever now? We killed their archedemons so they must be mortal. And what is the Devouring Storm?

AAAAAAAA

If anyone needs me, I'll be in the angry dome.

#veilguard critical #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #rant #long post #dont click this unless you wanna scroll for days

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