#I just. Idk man I think it’s just so beautiful

[khioneee]

No nonono no no no. I just found Wilted 😭😭😭😭😭my heart can’t take it I think this is one of the best angst fics I’ve ever read😭😭 like it needs so much more recognition. But it can’t end like this.

Idk if you do request and if not that’s completely fine, but could you do like a part two or an au where something triggers her memories (bonus if she gets them back when she’s with her new boyfriend) and she so angry so she asked her mom then maybe she sees Simon walking or she calls him and demands he tells her the truth and that he take her home(with him) even though everyone is telling her Simon’s no good for her(including him), she wont listen and tells him the wreck wasn’t his fault and that nobody decides who she can and can’t be with that it’s her decision. And they get back together you know happy endings.

You can change some stuff if you want I just want to see Simon happy. Ok that’s all don’t forget to eat something and drink some water. Great authors have to take care of themselves too, bye👋❤️.

you got it, nonnie! been cooking this up since you sent the req, and it’s already at 3.4k words 😭. but more importantly, remember to take care of yourself too! here’s your reminder to eat and drink your 12 cups of water 🥹. hope this is close to what you were hoping for 💗 enjoy.

The days had stretched too long without him, the anticipation growing each time you glanced at the door of your flower shop. His deployment was supposed to end a week ago, and every day you found yourself waiting, feeling a quiet ache that had started to bleed into worry. Simon always visited the shop as soon as he came back, his presence slipping in like he was part of the space, a rhythm that had somehow settled into your life.

And then, finally, he arrived.

Simon stepped through the door, and the world felt like it clicked back into place. Everything seemed normal again, like he belonged there, in that space filled with soft greens and blooms. He moved among the flowers like they were as much a part of him as the silence he carried, and you thought that maybe it was just the frequency of his visits. But there was something more—a quiet sense of homecoming, of something unspoken that settled deep inside you.

“What took you so long?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. Yet the relief that seeped through your words betrayed you, slipping out despite yourself. It was almost silly, really, to feel so much for a man you barely knew.

But here he was, standing in your shop again, and the warmth of his presence seemed to fill a space that had felt empty in ways you hadn’t known.

Simon hesitated, his gaze dipping downward for a moment before he looked back at you. “I… needed to get settled,” he murmured, voice soft. His hand reached into his bag, pulling out a small, nearly-dry purple plant, its leaves curled at the edges. He held it out with a strange kind of reverence, as if it held a secret. “Got this for you. They were all over the ground in Brazil… tried not to hurt it on the way back.”

The plant lay fragile in his hands, bruised but beautiful, and something twisted inside you. As you took it, your fingers brushed his, a moment too brief, too fleeting, and it sent a warmth up your arm.

“It’s lovely,” you whispered, your voice catching on something you couldn’t name. There was an ache there, beneath the words, an unspoken weight that hung in the way he looked at you.

He took a slow, deep breath, his gaze drifting around the shop, his eyes touching each corner as if memorizing it, as if gathering it all up in a way that felt final.

“Listen,” he began, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, every word feeling like a struggle. “I… I don’t think I’ll be back for a while.”

The words struck you, sudden and sharp, and you couldn’t help the way your chest tightened. “What do you mean?” you asked, barely managing to keep your voice steady.

“It’s not healthy… coming here again and again,” he replied, looking away as though the words were too heavy to say while meeting your gaze. “Buying flowers, visiting her grave…” He paused, swallowing, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the grief that clung to him like an old coat. “I can’t keep holding on to someone who’s already gone. If I stay… it feels like I’ll never move on with my life.”

You couldn’t fully understand—why he felt like he had to leave you behind along with the girl he’d lost. He could still visit, couldn’t he? It didn’t make sense why he had to leave you too. But you knew better than to argue with a grieving man, especially one who carried loss in a way that had become part of him.

Your fingers tightened around the plant, holding it like it could keep you steady.

“I understand,” you said softly, though your voice wavered. “But… can’t say that I won’t miss you.” You forced a faint, sad smile, but the ache in your chest felt like something breaking, something you couldn’t quite name.

Simon’s gaze softened, his eyes meeting yours with a look that felt like he was holding back a thousand things he couldn’t say.

“Can’t say I won’t miss you either,” he murmured, his voice raw, as if he were trying to contain everything he felt. “You’ve been… well, you’ve been more than you know.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with things unsaid, memories neither of you would speak of. You felt the weight of it all—the quiet understanding, the way you were both holding on to something that seemed to slip further away with every breath.

You took a shaky breath, struggling to find the words to ease the ache blooming in your chest. “I hope you find peace, Simon,” you whispered, voice barely steady. “Real, honest peace. The kind that lets you finally be happy.”

A flicker of something passed over his face—gratitude, maybe, or just understanding, but it was enough to send another pang through you.

“Thank you,” he said, voice rough but sincere, like the words themselves held a weight he couldn’t release. “I’ll try.”

He turned to leave, his steps slow, each one feeling like it carried more than just distance. He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder one last time, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“Take care of yourself for me, yeah?” he said quietly, almost a plea.

You nodded, feeling a sting in your chest, like you were letting go of something you never even knew you had. “You too, Simon.”

And then, without another word, he walked out of the shop, his presence lingering in the silence he left behind. In your hands, the purple plant sat like a quiet promise, a reminder of something both lost and found.

A goodbye that felt like an ending and a beginning all at once.

You were watching your boyfriend move around the kitchen, chatting with your mom as they prepared dinner together, their voices blending with the warmth of home. Yet, despite the comfort of the scene, something kept pulling your gaze back to the small vase on the counter.

Inside, the purple flower Simon had given you was wilting. Its petals, once vibrant, were curling at the edges, their color fading—a quiet reminder that something beautiful had started to slip away. You couldn’t ignore the faint pang that stirred within you each time you looked at it.

Your mother noticed and smiled, gently suggesting, “Why don’t you press it into one of your journals? You’ve got that lovely collection of pressed flowers. It’d be a shame to let this one go to waste.”

Her words caught you off guard. A collection of pressed flowers? You tried to recall the last time you’d pressed a flower, but nothing came to mind. The idea felt foreign, yet strangely familiar, like an old habit you’d somehow forgotten.

Driven by curiosity, you excused yourself from the kitchen and headed to your room. There, on a dusty shelf, you found a stack of journals that looked well-worn, as though they’d been opened and closed countless times. You selected one at random, and as you opened it, a few pages slipped loose, drifting to the floor.

Kneeling down, you picked up the scattered pages, pausing as your fingers brushed over a pressed daisy, faded but delicately preserved. Beneath it, there was a note written in neat, careful handwriting. You held it closer, heart pounding as you read the words:

Every time I see a flower, I can’t help but think of you. You’re everywhere, even when I’m miles away.

The signature was unmistakable: Simon.

You stood frozen for a moment, rereading the words that felt intimate yet unfamiliar. Simon’s handwriting… words from him, words that seemed to speak to you in ways that went beyond the surface. You couldn’t quite place the feeling, but it was as though he were reaching out to you from a memory you hadn’t realized you’d lost.

Compelled to understand more, you flipped through the pages of the journal, finding more pressed flowers scattered among the entries. Each flower seemed to carry its own message, its own secret memory, and tucked between them were letters—some in Simon’s handwriting, some in your own.

Another note slipped out, this one written by you, the ink familiar and clear:

Home is not the same without you. Every corner feels empty, every morning too quiet. Please, come home safely, Simon. This place isn’t home without you in it.

You felt an ache spread through your chest as you read the words. These weren’t just casual messages—they were parts of a shared story, a connection you hadn’t known existed. Every letter spoke of moments between the two of you, woven together like threads in a tapestry you’d somehow forgotten.

Heart pounding, you reached for another journal, one that looked older and more worn. As you flipped through, more letters and flowers revealed themselves, each one adding to a picture that was slowly coming into focus. Memories of travels, quiet conversations, promises made under moonlit skies—all preserved, pressed between petals and pages.

And then, nestled near the back of one of the journals, you found the last note, written in your handwriting, simple yet filled with a love that resonated through every word:

I love you forever, Simon. And to answer your question… yes, I’ll marry you.

The words seemed to leap off the page, a promise sealed between petals and time, hidden but unforgotten. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the weight of the letters settled over you, filling the gaps with emotions you hadn’t known you were missing.

This wasn’t just a collection of flowers—it was a history, a story of love, of quiet moments and shared dreams. Simon hadn’t just been a visitor to your shop. He had been a part of your life, woven into it in ways you were only beginning to understand.

As you sat there surrounded by journals and petals, the wilted flower on the counter took on a new meaning. It was a reminder of something fragile yet enduring, something that had managed to survive through time, waiting patiently for you to remember.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by pieces of a love you hadn’t known you’d lost, you felt the weight of that history settle into your heart, filling it with both sorrow and a newfound understanding of the promise you’d once made—one that now, despite everything, felt as real as ever.

You sat there, surrounded by scattered journals, pressed flowers, and letters that hinted at a life you hadn’t remembered until now. The words on the pages blurred as tears slipped down your cheeks, the weight of each revelation pressing heavily on your heart. This wasn’t just a collection of flowers and notes—this was a love story, preserved between petals and pages, hidden from you until this moment.

Just then, your mother appeared in the doorway. She took in the scene—pages strewn across the floor, tears streaming down your face, and the shattered look in your eyes. Concern deepened in her gaze as she slowly walked over to you.

“Sweetheart?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with worry. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

You looked up at her, voice breaking as you clutched the journal close to your chest. “You kept everything from me.”

You clutched the letters tightly in your hands as you made your way to the field. You didn’t know how you knew he’d be here, but somehow it felt right, like an unspoken understanding guiding your steps. The sky was a muted gray, casting a somber light over the tall grass swaying gently in the breeze.

And there he was—Simon. Standing alone, hands in his pockets, his gaze distant as he looked out over the field. The moment he heard your footsteps, he turned, his eyes meeting yours. His gaze dropped to the letters in your hands, and as realization dawned on his face, his expression softened, then crumbled, and for a second, he looked as vulnerable as the words he’d written so long ago.

“Were you ever planning to tell me?” you asked, your voice shaking as you tried to hold back tears. You took a step closer, feeling the weight of each word pressing down on you. “Or were you just going to let me go on without ever knowing?”

Simon’s face fell, and he took a deep breath, his gaze shifting down, unable to meet your eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you… didn’t want to put you through that again. Everyone thought… it would be easier for you to heal without knowing.”

You shook your head, the letters trembling in your grip. “But I loved you, Simon. I deserved to know that much. I deserved to know what we had.”

The words hung between you, heavy and raw, each one carrying the weight of what had been kept from you. You watched as he took a step closer, his own eyes glistening, his hands clenching at his sides as if he were fighting to keep control.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “The last thing I wanted was to bring you more pain.”

“Pain?” you repeated, voice rising. “Do you know what it feels like to find letters and memories that don’t feel like mine, but are? To feel like a stranger in my own life?”

Simon’s shoulders slumped, his gaze filled with guilt. “I’m so sorry… I never wanted this for you.” He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… maybe I could just leave you with a clean slate, let you have a life without the weight of what we went through.”

“But it was my life too, Simon,” you replied, voice soft but resolute. “I had a right to know the love we shared, the promises we made… and you took that from me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, as you stood facing each other in the empty field, the letters a fragile testament to what once was.

Finally, Simon looked up, meeting your gaze, his own eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I loved you more than anything,” he said, his voice rough, each word like a confession. “And I still do. That’s why it was so damn hard to watch you live without knowing… but it felt selfish to want you back, to bring you all the hurt that we went through.”

Your throat tightened as you looked down at the letters, the words that held pieces of a love you’d somehow forgotten, promises you hadn’t known you’d made.

“But maybe that’s not your choice to make,” you whispered. “Maybe… maybe I needed to remember, even if it hurt.”

Simon’s face softened, his eyes filling with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before, glistening with unshed tears as he took a shaky breath.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice barely holding together, each word heavy with remorse.

“You owe it to me, Simon,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache. “I have a right to know who I was—to know who we were. And if it hurts, then that’s mine to bear.”

He looked away, jaw tightening, struggling against the emotions that threatened to break through. “I just… I thought maybe if you had a fresh start, it would be easier. You could move on without… without the memories.”

“But they aren’t just memories, Simon,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “They’re pieces of me, of us. And you had no right to decide I didn’t need them.” You held up the letters, trembling in your hands, a tangible reminder of the love you’d both lost. “These aren’t just words on a page—they’re moments, promises we shared, a life we built together. You can’t erase that, no matter how much you try.”

Simon’s gaze returned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and longing that mirrored your own. “You’re right,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I owe you that, and more. I was wrong to keep it from you. I was wrong to think I could just let you go and pretend it would be better that way.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything that had been kept from you since the accident, the loss of something you never even knew was yours.

“My life… it hasn’t felt right since the accident,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like I’ve been living in a place that doesn’t quite fit, like I’m walking through someone else’s memories.”

Simon’s expression softened, his gaze filled with an ache that mirrored your own. He didn’t say anything, waiting, giving you space to continue.

“When you came to say goodbye, it hurt in a way I couldn’t understand,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know why I felt so empty watching you leave. But the only thing that’s made sense… the only thing that felt real was when you walked into the flower shop. Every time you came by, it was like… like a part of me recognized you, even if I didn’t know why.”

He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours, grounding you as he spoke. “I should have known. I thought I could walk away, let you find your own peace, but it’s clear now… I’ve just been trying to hide from something we both needed.”

You held his gaze, pain, regret, and quiet understanding filling the silence between you.

And then, your eyes drifted downward, noticing something glinting at his chest. Hanging alongside his dog tags was a delicate silver band—a ring, familiar in shape and weight. It took you a moment to realize what it was, but when you did, it felt like the ground slipped out from under you.

It was your engagement ring.

The ring you’d once said yes to. An evidence of a love you couldn’t remember but somehow felt deep in your bones.

A fresh wave of emotion surged through you, your gaze lifting to meet Simon’s. He noticed your stare, his fingers reaching up to touch the ring as if it were a talisman, his face softened with both pain and something that looked like hope.

“Simon…” you whispered, words catching in your throat. “I don’t know if what I feel right now is love. I don’t know if I can call it that… yet.” You took a deep, steadying breath. “But I feel like it could be someday. Like there’s something here that could grow into that.”

His eyes glistened with something close to relief, and he nodded, his lips pressing into a faint, bittersweet smile. “That’s more than I ever thought I’d hear from you again,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You held his gaze, a strange peace settling over you as you spoke. “I know I loved you once. And maybe… maybe I’ll love you again. In this life, and whatever comes after.”

A quiet, vulnerable smile touched his lips as he reached up, his fingers brushing over the ring, the same band that held so much history, so much unspoken promise.

“I was waiting for you to come back,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “Waiting for you to remember.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his words settling deep within you. Stepping closer, you gently placed your hand over his, your thumb brushing against the ring he’d held onto all this time.

“I’m here now,” you whispered, meeting his gaze.

The pain, the longing, and the love that had waited in silence between you found its voice in that moment. You didn’t need memories to know that this was where you belonged, and for the first time in a long time, the pieces of your life began to feel whole.

As you sat there with him, surrounded by the stillness of the field, you noticed a lone dandelion growing nearby, its delicate seeds waiting to be carried away by the breeze. You reached over, plucking it gently, and held it out to him with a soft smile.

“Make a wish,” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the quiet around you.

He looked at the dandelion, then back at you, a tender smile crossing his face as he shook his head. “I already got my wish,” he murmured, his eyes filled with a warmth and sincerity that made your heart ache in the best way.

In that moment, words felt unnecessary.

You leaned into him, feeling the quiet reassurance of his presence, knowing that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together.

[rustfoxes]

This has just become a list of things I don't like about the game tbh. Oh well.

I do not like having non-Warden characters fighting darkspawn. The whole entire point of the Order is that they are, again, the only ones who can face the Blight without dying instantly, because darkspawn blood is poison. If any rando can fight them, why the fuck have Grey Wardens to begin with?

What is the goddamn message of this game? If you're faced with people doing horrible things absolutely do not try to help? Someone's trying to enslave the whole of the world and you should know better than to try and stop them! Because, oh boy, you might not do it the exactly correct way that doesn't negatively impact anyone! And wow if you did make a mistake, never ever try to mend what you've broken, because that makes you a bad person. You honestly think that a literal spirit of Wisdom didn't consider every fucking option available? I really hope they can tie this shit up in a nice lil bow by the end of it.

I'm so fucking tired of Morrigan being in every goddamn game. I didn't like her in the first one. Same with Isabela. Didn't like Leliana either but thankfully she's not shown up this time outside of conversations. But just fuck Morrigan, I can't stand her being everywhere and the most coolest and most important and oh so special. Love her VA, don't like the character. Don't ask me why, idk man.

Kal-Sharok outpost... with sunlight? I mean, it's beautiful, but no self-respecting dwarf would go where the sun might hit them. You can't really call a place with sunlight the Deep Roads. The first word in "Deep Roads" should give you a pretty significant hint.

For a people as devoted to remaining unchanged, the Kal-Sharok dwarves sure changed their ways quick, if it only took a couple of generations.

Why is the only child in the game in the Grey Warden fort?

Super grateful that Mila isn't an example of the "spunky kid" stereotype where they're a freaking pain and you have to rescue them from trouble they get themselves into. Thanks for being a sensible kid.

I find the whole "wow Solas was so condescending always" thing to be... strange. If you talked to him with the base amount of respect you'd talk to anyone with and told him to knock it off when he started to be rude, he was a perfectly polite and fine conversation partner. He appreciated being told that the elves are trying and if he's so much smarter, he needs to teach them. He acquiesces that you're right and asks what you'd like to know. I never thought he was particularly condescending. Morrigan was much more condescending and belittling at times. The forest echoes as you yell into it. If you were rude and condescending, he was rude and condescending. If you were polite and firm, so was he. I really don't like the assumption that the person playing the game interacted with Solas a set way in the previous game, specially since the assumption is that you were a dick and he was a dick in kind.

The Cauldron got me. Seeing the urns for the gryphons just go on and on into the darkness actually managed a solid hit. Well done on that one.

I get where the Red Lyrium Ghost is coming from, but "why do [the elves] get to thrive when [dwarves] have suffered", really? Really? Orzammar and other dwarven kingdoms are rich as hell off the lyrium they sell to literally everyone else, meanwhile the elves until quite damn recently have been enslaved by humans and lost to their past. No one's a winner here. I get that she's talking about the elves of old, but still. Bub.

Why do we have so much time to hunt down the Gloom Howler though? Wouldn't blighting the gryphons take like... 2 minutes max?

Still frustrated about being immediately told what to do when the game gives you a puzzle. Absolutely zero trust in the player's capabilities.

Disjointed DAtVG feelings/opinions

I've played the game for a bit, I'm not too far in yet, and honestly? I hope it gets better. Spoilers & venting below as you might guess.

Everything seems to be tell, don't show. There's very, VERY little trust in the player. Characters happen upon a ruined village? "The village is ruined! There's no one here!" Yes, we can see that. Character looks upset? Text pops up on screen to tell you that IN FACT!! Character is upset. Couldn't have guessed.

Everything is explained out loud immediately, except the arguably actually important things. If I remember correctly, there's no mention of the 10 year (?) timeskip from DAI, everyone just now knows everything about elven magic and the Fade and the Veil EXCEPT FOR THE PLAYER. None of that is explained! New players are expected to just know, which in some games works, but when you throw characters into a magical forest and say it's Arlathan forest, how tf are they supposed to know what Arlathan is.

Why is Varric a brunette all of a sudden

Characterisation of returning characters is fucking wild. Fun, jokey Harding? Massive chip on her shoulder and real aggressive for some reason. Soft-spoken and measured Solas? Yelling, again, for some damn reason. Where is his iambic pentameter? And he hates blood magic all of a sudden?? Did the writers play the earlier games at all? Solas SPECIFICALLY says in DAI that blood magic has no morality to it and is merely a tool.

The game is linear to the extent that I cannot for the life of me see the point of the game asking you to wrap up unfinished business before moving forward. What unfinished business? You've locked us into a small room with 0 exits and 1 chest. There is no business.

So far there's been zero time for any of the story to breathe. There are no story beats, because the drum machine that is the pacing just keeps hammering on. The gravity of the situation has no time to set in for anyone. THE ACTUAL GODS OF MYTH HAVE BEEN BUST OUT OF GOD-JAIL. THIS IS A HUGE FUCKING PROBLEM. "Yeah, well, people would've died if Solas hadn't been stopped from tearing down the Veil." And this is preferable???? What the actual fuck. DAI Solas wanted to rebuild and to safe-guard his people. TWO of the people he wanted to PROTECT EVERYONE FROM are now out. But oh man, that Solas, he would've hurt folks. You think the wondertwins won't? Jesus fucking Christ.

The gameplay more or less just completely scraps character classes. Playing a mage rn and for some damn reason she has separate ranged attacks. What the actual fuck. What is the point of making people choose a class if a damn mage has to stand next to enemies to attack?

So far doesn't feel like an RPG at all. Starts in media res which is fine, but your character is already established as a cool hero and an important figure. Why? Why weren't we along for that ride?

Character movement is janky af, DAI was much smoother 10 damn years ago. Hopefully they'll somehow manage to fix it.

Either they needed better actors or a much better voice director, because holy shit is the dialogue awkward and halting and just... no.

Writers have clearly had shoes far too large to fill. Dialogue wants to be funny and witty and clever. It is not. Specially not with the phoned in voice acting.

Where have my Welsh/Irish elves gone? Wtf happened there? Also why wasn't there anyone around to tell the actors how to pronounce the elvhen words??

Why the fuck is the rogue our healer.

All quests so far have been walking from A to B, collecting some coins along the path, and then fighting 5 or 10 enemies. No variation at all.

Idk man, I really hope the game will find its legs as it goes on, but so far? Massively underwhelming and honestly quite disappointing. Absolutely does not feel like DA. People critisised DA2 for being rushed and DAI for a whole host of shit, but at least I felt like I was playing a Dragon Age game.

[cactoise]

Actually I think it’s beautiful that even though the moon doesn’t shine as bright as the sun and it’s not as popular or anything like it we have sayings with the moon that mean I love you. I love you to the moon and back. The moon is beautiful, isn’t it? The sun may be shining brightly but it could never compare to the amount of love I have for you

[epiphainie]

i simply can't get over how tommy immediately opens up to buck about his feelings over the current 118. like saying "i wanted to be a part of that" is such an honest and personal admission to a person you barely know, especially to a person who is a part of that thing you wanted in. choosing the words "i was jealous" is a direct admission of being envious which is hardly considered the most admirable or desired feeling by anyone. it's also him admitting that he lacks that type of deep connection which is not something many people are very forthcoming about, let alone with people they met two weeks ago. and you can see in his body language that everything he says at that moment comes from this very real and honest place. it's not calculated, it's not just him trying to make buck feel better about his own feelings of jealousy. it's personal to tommy, honest, real, even a little uncomfortable as it takes a bit of effort but tommy says it anyway because he genuinely feels like he can be vulnerable with buck about this because buck has been vulnerable with him. it's like the truest moment of connection between two people.

[silusvesuius]

nnnnnnnnnnnnno maa'am

[toastcryptid]

Continuation of this

[bamboozled-distress]

omniman doesn’t even need his whole redemption arc, him simply saying “i think i miss my wife” has like actually altered my brain like he’s already redeemed to me like do you know how insane it is for literally everything he’s done and how uncleansed he is and how he knew he couldn’t go back and through everything when he knows he’s going to die he just. he misses his wife. he misses his wife he misses his wife he misses his wife he misses his wife he misses his wi

[sleep-deprived-luka]

Gog au niigo for tonights doodle

[lunarharp]

shirahama-sensei reminded me she has a thing for the teacher from pokemon s/v so i randomly went off on an au where qifrey is the professor. etc

[sandsofsolstice]

alright listen. let the record show i do have oc art i could post but im soooooooooooooo estranged with art right now we're having a temporary divorce.

but i did manage to draw these after many a week of drawing absolutely nothing

sorry for getting into spn in 2024. you jump in to your friends' watch party (in s6, in some of s6's worst episodes) for funsies and then three days later youre watching s1 "just to have something in the background." and then you watch spn for 20 days straight from start to finish. and then the tragic little gay people haunt you

[thekidsarentalright]

sitting here thinking abt the minneapolis show still ofc and it’s just now hitting me how every single fob album got a song played at it- including eowyg, including mania. the albums we thought they forgot, the albums only recently added back into regular rotation, the albums that always get remembered- all of them were represented with equal love and care. fob ensured their Entire discography was given its special moment, which i do really think is part of the message of the whole tour. none of it was for nostalgia, all of it was to honor their past selves and work and heal from old pains. and because of that, every single album got a song. even albums that were never made, with only remnants of them like 7-9 legendary left to show for it, got their moment. healing tour forever

[what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque]

Ok I know I'm heavily biased here but like I kinda love that Astarion's romance is one of the few in this type of video game where you basically end up canonically unmarried and childfree in his "good" ending? Just travelling the world??

Like it's honestly the millennial dream lmfaoo cannot believe i chose what would undoubtedly be my favorite option, first try

[toxicroyjamie]

Roy obviously knows that Jamie admires/respects/looks up to him but I like to think there's some part of him that wants Jamie to think he's like. Cool. On some level he's just a middle aged man who peaked in his 20s and craves validation from his cool gen Z coworker. I'm not like a regular coach I'm a Cool coach

[vigilskeep]

not grabbed by any of the companions i’ve picked up so far for romance, not with sol in particular, but i’m increasingly aware of how funny sol/davrin or sol/emmrich would be. like with both of those i DO want to see where my loser jock assassin is going with this

[fruityumbrella]

i love and agree with 40yo sanjis effective twenty step skincare routine vs raisin old man zoro but i also think east asian zoro not wearing age on his skin + leathery european retiree sanji is even funnier bc of how mad sanji would be over it and how zoro wouldnt even notice

[channie-binnie]

I swear every time I see anything relating to ATEEZ my eyes would always go to this man

BYE OMG WHY IS HE SO BEAUTIFUL????

This is a different type of ethereal beauty because wtf

He is a fairy 🧚