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#hawke frequently writing letters to varric to keep him updated with every last thing of course claiming it's only for his story fodder (lie)
beebundt · 2 years
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just finished first playthrough of da2, thinking about some post-game ship captain isabela and her 2nd hand (and lover)
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juliafied · 1 year
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I posted 1,725 times in 2022
51 posts created (3%)
1,674 posts reblogged (97%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@hexcore-juggler
@hanarinhightown
@nerdierholler
@miindli
@viscariadraws
I tagged 616 of my posts in 2022
#mutuals write - 102 posts
#q - 97 posts
#arcane - 78 posts
#fic rec - 57 posts
#thanzag - 57 posts
#fenris - 43 posts
#hades game - 40 posts
#fenhawke - 31 posts
#♥️♥️♥️ - 28 posts
#vi - 28 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#hawke frequently writing letters to varric to keep him updated with every last thing of course claiming it's only for his story fodder (lie)
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
what a drag to love you like I do
Fandom: Hades
Pairing: Thanatos/Zagreus
Rating: Teen
Chapter(s): 1/?
Words: 3317
AO3
Summary:
"You're all it takes for me to break a promise, silly me to fall in love with you."
All the times Thanatos didn't realize he was falling in love with his best friend, until it was too late.
Thanatos is four, or four hundred – the mortal years mean little to the chthonic gods and denizens of the Underworld, but he feels very young yet, compared to Nyx’s eternity – when the prince is born. He does not know what a birthing entails, and when he hears the little god’s wails echo through the halls of the House he tugs on his mother’s skirts to ask if this is how he came to be also, and whether it is very painful to be born.
Nyx laughs quietly, lips closed in a secret smile. “No, my child. You were plucked from Darkness itself and appeared as you are.”
A story he has heard before, and he is too young yet to question it. Another wail begins, and he tugs a little harder on the velvet in his hand. Nyx glances towards the king and queen’s chambers.
“Our queen’s mortal blood runs strong, but worry not, my child. The new prince is not in pain.”
Soon, the halls quiet once more, and Thanatos lets his hand slip down the velvet to his side. His mother watches the doors to the royal chambers, her own hand worrying at the gold trim of her gown.
The door flies open and the usually thunderous Lord Hades emerges, a terrible look in his Styx-red eyes. The wail that comes from the room now is one of anguish, a sound that no child can make.
“Go find your brother, Thanatos,” his mother says, clipped and stern.
“But—”
“Please,” and Thanatos is suddenly afraid, for he has never heard his mother’s voice tremble. She quickly flattens her cool palm over his hair, a habitual gesture meant to tame the wispy white tendrils and comfort at once, but it is not comforting now. “Go.”
She hesitates, then in a swirl of skirts, she is gone.
--
Though the birth of the prince is Thanatos’ first brush with his own purpose, he has yet to meet its finality. So, Zagreus lives, but the queen vanishes, her memory becoming more of a shade to Thanatos than any of the ones that wander the House. Thanatos senses his twin’s jealousy at Nyx’s divided attention, but he finds himself more than happy to play brother to the prince. The House even starts calling him Nyx’s child, and some grow to believe this. Thanatos does not. Though he does not remember her face, Thanatos still remembers the echoes of the queen’s wails through the halls of the House of Hades.
He does not find it difficult to share everything with Zagreus, toys, sweets, stories, secrets. Even Mort, though Zagreus always carefully tucks him under Thanatos’ pillow just before they both fall asleep on the rug next to Thanatos’ bed in his mother’s room, tiny wooden hydras and shiny metal tops scattered about. Thanatos sees the question in Zagreus’ eyes when eventually Megara comes along to play, too old now for such games but indulging them after they tug on the tip of her fledgling wing enough times. As Battie battles Mort, the prince almost asks.
 Why didn’t Nyx make one for me?
Battie wins, and the question doesn’t leave his lips. Zagreus has never been one to whine, and his face brightens soon after, once he brings the hydra into the fight, wooden bones rattling. It’s good, because Thanatos doesn’t have an answer. But he remembers.
30 notes - Posted April 24, 2022
#4
Face to Face
Fandom: Hades
Pairing: Thanatos/Zagreus
Rating: Mature
Chapter(s): 1/4
Words: 1088
AO3
Summary:
Thanatos can't remember the last time he went on a date that wasn't with his email inbox, so Charon sets about rectifying the situation by making him a profile on a dating app. Sifting through guys who fish and tourists looking for one night stands, Thanatos comes across his childhood best friend, who he hasn't spoken to since their strange parting as teenagers. Thanzag modern AU, online dating.
Thanatos is swiping idly on the latest dating app when he spots him.
He can’t believe he let Charon convince him to make a profile - yes, he knows that’s that how his brother met Hermes, and he’s aware of how great they are together, and of course somewhere at the back of his mind he’d like to spend his nights doing something after work other than doom-scrolling until his too-exhausted eyes fall shut, but he’d been resistant.
But Charon had picked through Thanatos’ social media for some less moody pictures of him, gotten Hermes to take some more with a wink, and typed furiously away before shoving his phone back into his hands.
Thanatos, 25, consulting, looking for something (or someone) to do after work, read the description under a photo of him from university at some party or other, back in the days when he didn’t have to go on apps to meet people. He’d removed the “or someone” with a groan and a blush as Hermes’ eyebrows waggled in his direction.
It’d been fun, of course, to swipe through the app’s dubiously appealing offerings, silently judging some, reluctantly admiring others. There were the guys holding up some kind of fish in their pictures, the sunburnt ones “in Greece for 2 weeks, looking for fun”, the baristas, the artists, the lawyers.
It’d been fun, until he’d swiped right on a tanned, muscly guy who claimed to be manning a sailboat in Santorini for the summer, just to reveal Zagreus’ toothy grin and mismatched eyes, staring right at him.
Keep reading on AO3
33 notes - Posted September 8, 2022
#3
two shadows, reaching
Fandom: Hades, The Song of Achilles
Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus
Rating: Teen
Words: 980
AO3
The moment Achilles’ feet strike warm Elysium earth, his heart starts racing.
He passes through chamber upon chamber, cool waters of the Lethe threading through each one, shades armed with bows and spears and longswords wandering and whispering as he passes. He suspects these are the ones who have given Zagreus so much grief, but they do not bother him, for he is one of their own.
He has lingered too long in the House to feel himself young enough for such foolishness, but as he tears through the soft grass, his eyes fill with tears, and into his throat jumps up that old rage that he’d though long forgotten. He blinks them away, thinking instead of Patroclus as a boy, catching the figs that Achilles is juggling, eyes not those of an admirer but of a friend. Patroclus as a young man, shuddering into his arms in Scyros, lazy pleasure pooling in his collarbones, the soft skin of his neck.
Patroclus as the warrior he’d never been, the warrior Achilles had forced him to be, Achilles’ spear in his hand, Achilles’ armour on his back, Achilles’ death close behind him.
He stops to rest, his hands hitting cool stone, his knees soft grass, though he hasn’t felt physical exertion since he came to the Underworld. Can he be forgiven? The young prince had relayed Patroclus’ words to him, risk it all, he’d said. He can imagine Patroclus’ soft lips forming the words, lips he’d delighted in a thousand times, the way they’d laughed and spoke and chided him, even.
By the Gods, to hear his voice speak something new, to add to the ever-reverberating memories…
Achilles steels himself. He will face even his wrath, if it comes to it, his hatred, even though Zagreus has assured him otherwise. His indifference will sting more than Paris’ arrow through his chest, but he will face it, nonetheless.
Fear is for the weak.
More shades glance at him as he makes his way through this chamber, nudging one another as they whisper. How long has it been, he wonders, since he caused the carnage that won the war? Does Odysseus now find ways to enact his schemes amongst the exalted of Elysium? He’d sent Hector here himself, but had Paris, his own killer, followed yet? How many, of the shades around him, had been dispatched here by his own hand?
If Agamemnon walks the halls of Elysium, the old rage whispers, Achilles should like to send him to the depths of Tartarus himself.
But he is beholden to more pressing matters – as he approaches the golden gates that mark the entryways to the next chambers, a smaller passage opens in the lush hedge between them, and something in his heart tells him this is the way. He ducks down to push through, branches soft as he pushes them away from his hands, and then—
The smell of lichen fills his nose, earthy and perfumed, the kind that grows in warm caves fed by mountain air, though the space he enters is open and airy and bereft of stone, the light above not quite moon, not quite sun. The waters of the Lethe flow around a warrior’s statue obscured by tall greenery and fill the air with a familiar sweetness, like the smell of his clothes after being left out in the strong mountain sun.
Patroclus, his heart sings. On the islet up ahead, there is the sound of someone rising.
His feet do not so much pound off the earth as it propels him forward. He sees his full lips first, trembling but upturned, then the curve of his bronze cheek – the one he has stroked, and kissed, and brushed his own cheek against a thousand times. His hair remains long and dark and unruly, his shoulders strong and full as they were in life, or even in death.
And his eyes – grief and joy twinned, piercing through to Achilles’ heart, though he no longer has one, the heart that has always been Patroclus’ in life, in death, in afterlife.
“Patroclus,” Achilles says, and it is not enough, but his throat has closed to other words, so instead, he steps forward.
It is as if the world has opened up around them, when Patroclus takes Achilles in his arms, and they are up on that mountaintop once again, the wounds of their shared fate far away in both time and place. He cradles the back of Patroclus’ head, fingers tangling in the spot behind his ear where his hair never lies flat, tracing the shoulders that he has loved since they were thin and narrow, the muscles of his beautiful chest.
Something had broken within him that day when Patroclus’ body was dragged off the battlefield, divested of the armour that caused his death. He has had an eternity to dwell on the guilt that has eaten him from the inside, with only his duties in service to Lord Hades to distract him. But the wound seems small, in light of the gift that Zagreus has given him now. Whatever words there are to be said between them can now be spoken, and though he may never earn his forgiveness, he has an eternity to keep trying, and it is enough.
“Philtatos, my Patroclus,” he whispers again, and his lips meet his cheek, the conch of his ear, the pride of his brow, and finally his mouth. He tastes of the ambrosia that Zagreus has pressed into his hands, of figs so ripe the juice runs down his fingers, of his greatest dream and greatest regret, and of him. He who stood by him, and challenged him, and cherished him until his dying breath. His Patroclus, the best of the Myrmidons and of all people.
“Achilles,” his beloved pulls away to breathe in his ear, and he is made whole once again.
58 notes - Posted April 10, 2022
#2
There have been a lot of arguments over the years about why we never find out Goncharov’s first name - the loss of his identity beyond Goncharov the hardened killer, etc - but in the last part of the film, when Katya leans in and whispers in his ear just as he’s dying at her feet, she must be saying his name.
In Russian, to address someone by their last name is very formal and even reinforces a hierarchy, like a professor addressing their students, symbolic of Katya being the authority, the mind and the drive behind their operation. Moreover, for most of the film, Katya and Goncharov’s attention is focused elsewhere than on the intimacy that they so clearly share, on the operation in which they are more like colleagues, and on Sofia and Andrey, but in death, Katya truly sees him as he is: the man she grew up with, her sweet Kolya or Seryezha or Valya.
And it’s not for us to know or see him in that way. We only get a glimpse. It’s emblematic of the one of the film’s themes: how utterly terrifying, difficult it is to be known, and loved anyway.
131 notes - Posted November 22, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
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272 notes - Posted December 4, 2022
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starlightfound · 1 year
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I posted 6,711 times in 2022
That's 3,174 more posts than 2021!
2 posts created (0%)
6,709 posts reblogged (100%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@elytrians
@feelintheaster
@long-dramatic-sigh
@doityourselfbombs
@zackisontumblr
I tagged 116 of my posts in 2022
#our flag means death - 19 posts
#ofmdedit - 13 posts
#ofmd - 13 posts
#edward teach - 11 posts
#stede bonnet - 9 posts
#taika waititi - 8 posts
#blackbonnet - 7 posts
#blackbeard - 6 posts
#my art - 6 posts
#rhys darby - 6 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#hawke frequently writing letters to varric to keep him updated with every last thing of course claiming it's only for his story fodder (lie)
My Top Posts in 2022:
#2
if i don’t get a girlfriend during pride month, i’m blaming homophobia
0 notes - Posted June 24, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
crash
0 notes - Posted April 1, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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dragon-age-sideblog · 6 years
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Nico Hawke: After the Arishok battle
meta bc im emotional and bored
so. Nico is a pretty humorous fellow
but after the Arishok duel. he can't find humor in anything anymore. his depression catches up to him, and it catches up Hard.
Isabela's betrayal and abandonment.
Mother's death.
Bethany going to the Circle.
Carver's death.
Father's death.
Garrett and Marian's deaths.
Sam's death.
He feels lost, like he's lost everything.
It's almost a relief that he was impaled five times during the duel with the Arishok because it leaves him with the perfect excuse to not leave his house. to not leave his bed.
he hasn't moved in weeks, other than to painfully get up and use the bathroom.
Anders hasn't left his side, other than when he goes to the clinic. Nico can tell it's draining him to use this much healing magic on one person. especially one that needs more than just physical healing. Anders kisses him every day; Nico hasn't been responsive to most of them, so Anders sticks to forehead and cheek and hand kisses. he assures Hawke he loves him, and he does everything he can to make his beloved feel better.
Fenris visits regularly. One of the few friends Nico has left. Fenris and Anders still don't get along, but they seem to have put their differences aside for now, in order to take care of Hawke. Fenris tries to keep things light and normal; reading books aloud to Hawke under the guise of his reading lessons, avoiding any topic that relates to Isabela or Hawke's family or mages, playing cards when Varric visits.
Varric has visited every day. It scares him, Nico being quiet and withdrawn like this. he doesn't want to lose his best friend, his brother. He plays Wicked Grace, he reads Hawke the newest chapters of his latest book to attempt to get his feedback, he tells Hawke of what's happening outside the estate. he tells jokes, tries to get a laugh out of Chuckles
and Aveline. Aveline is the only family (other than Varric) that Nico has left. and she is Worried. her and Donnic visit once a week for a game of Wicked Grace. She visits usually every 3 days; she keeps Nico updated on Kirkwall news and what new BS the guard has had to deal with in the last few days. She absolutely does not say "i told you so" about Isabela; it's clear that Hawke is still reeling from her betrayal. She keeps a guard posted near the Hawke Estate at all times, Just In Case. (She knows Fenris has been keeping an eye on the Estate too. Can't let anyone hurt Nico while he's in this vulnerable state)
Merrill visits about once a week. She misses Isabela. She brings cookies and other treats for Hawke, and occasionally some flowers she finds in the Lowtown bazaar. Her sweet voice fills the air as she talks for hours about Dalish legends. She made sock puppets so she could act out some of the legends; she just wants to see Nico smile like he normally does.
and Bethany. ever since she heard about her last surviving brother's state, she's tried her damned hardest to get out of the Circle just to see him. she writes him so many letters, but he hasn't written back yet. She's getting increasingly worried, but Varric keeps reassuring her that Nico will be okay. she certainly hopes so, because she absolutely could not bear the death of the last of her family.
and Kirkwall? Kirkwall has no clue. As far as the city knows, their Champion is recovering from his duel with the Arishok, which almost cost him his life. they have no idea that he's also trying to recover from all the trauma he's endured in the last 10 years.
Nico wonders. what if he had died in that duel. what would be different? Kirkwall would still be a burning trash heap. why does he have to be the Champion? why does his family have to suffer and die? why do his friends have to suffer? why do people use him? Why did Isabela run away?? 6 years of friendship, gone. what had he done wrong? he thinks, frequently while he's laying in his bed, that maybe if he had let the Arishok finish him off, he wouldn't hurt as much as he does right now. And that's not something he can just laugh off.
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