#anyway I'll still be here for most of this evening

[maya-caffrey]

Rain, Cinnamon, Cologne, and Conditioner

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: Amortentia week is always chaotic. Especially so when you're lab partners with longtime frenemy sirius black

warnings: Language maybe, fic from reader's pov

a/n: been forever since i wrote for a marauder, lets hope this is acceptable 🙏🏻

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Although Slughorn certainly meant well, there was simply nothing that one could do to hate him a bit less during Amortentia week. Dramatic breakups preceded by "What do you MEAN you smell my sister's perfume!?", and hasty love confessions followed by immediate regret, for a spectator like me this was the best week ever at Hogwarts.

The class smelled faintly of rain and cinnamon to me, a lingering effect of the neighboring cauldrons.

"I honestly have no idea what I'm supposed to be smelling here, like, I am certain no one has smelled this exact smell before."

"James, come on, that is clearly Lavender."

"What?"

"I smell Lavender!" she said, weirdly enthusiastic about the smell.

"Lily, honey, say that again but slowly."

It took her a minute before she realized. Even the smartest people get confuddled sometimes. Of course, she'll never know what it smelled like to him.

Somewhere in the back, I saw Lucius Malfoy almost poke some poor kid's eye out with his wand, and next to his table was Severus Snape, staring menacingly into a cauldron that definitely did not have Amortentia in it. He was a weird kid. Creeps me out still.

Anyway, that brings us to Sirius and I, who couldn't agree on who gets to put the sneezewort in.

"After you," I said, not wanting to bear the brunt of what will follow. You see, Sneezewort gets its name from the fact that whenever it's added to a potion, it produces a puff of smoke that causes those closest to sneeze for a good entire minute.

"Oh, no, go ahead. I insist."

"Well, I insist more."

"I insist the most, then."

"Sirius, come on."

"Hey, you started it!"

"Well, you end it. I don't want to keep sneezing!"

"Oh, good, because it's my favorite hobby, sneezing incessantly."

There was no compromise in sight. That is, until-

"Alright Sirius, I'll tell you what. You convince Peter to do this, I'll get Marlene to go with you to Hogsmeade. For real this time."

"Please, I don't need you to be my wingman, I'm perfectly charming all on my own, thank you very much," he said, signature smirk decorating his face.

"You know you need my hel-"

"Yes I do, I was kidding, thank you so much, I love you."

I shook my head and laughed while waiting for Peter to take whatever bait Sirius was laying out. Sure, he was presumptuous and annoying, and the banter was endless, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't look forward to it every day at this point.

After Remus begrudgingly dragged a red-in-the-face Peter away from our table, we stirred the potion 3 times, and all that was left was to add the pieces of Lovelog. We added them at the same time and instinctively held our breaths and waited for the potion to turn pink, which it did. However, it didn't work.

"Dude, I smell nothing."

"Yes, thanks for pointing it out, (Y/n). Extremely astute observation. 10 points to Gryffindor."

"Oh, okay, sure, be all haughty after fucking up the potion."

"I fucked up? That's presumptuous! For all we know, you screwed up."

"Please, I used Slughorn's recipe down to the smallest detail there is no way it was me. You were the one who kept taking off to 'charm Marlene with your smile' every 5 minutes."

"Hey. I'm playing the long game and it will work. Eventually. Just- Admit that you screwed up, please?"

"Oh, no, no we are not doing this. Remus, could you come here, please?"

"Me? Oh, no, love. I am not getting involved with this," said Remus, vaguely gesturing in our general direction.

James threw a raisin-looking thing at Sirius' head to get his attention which met its mark, followed by a faint 'ow'.

"Oi dickhead! Lily says you're potion's working fine. She smells Lavender."

"Well dip me in milk and call me a cookie 'cause I cannot smell anything for the life of me over that fruity conditioner of yours," said Sirius, in an annoyingly accusatory tone that set me over the edge because well first of all fuck you. second of all-

"Oh, you're one to talk Mr I-must-use-the-entire-bottle-of-cologne. You smell like an axe showroom" Yeah, get his ass, me. "Also, I didn't use conditioner today, you pompous dick."

"Yeah? Well, get ready to feel stupid because I ran out of cologne yesterday. Ha. In your face." Wait, what?

Silence.

Contemplative silence.

A whole lot of good old silence.

Faces contorting in ways like never before as we unpack what just happened, in sweet, painful, silence.

"(Y/n) did you-"

"Uh-uh. Yep. Apparently. And you, uh,"

"Big time, yes."

"Oh, okay, so, uh, what now?"

"We could talk about it?"

Sirius Black wants to "talk it out". Yeah, we don't got this.

"Hey morons, you need to fu-"

"Yeah, thank you, Remus. We got it." "Yeah, Cheers, mate."

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 2

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization

Author's Note: My gorl, @lostintransist, needed more so I'm gonna write more.

"I'm so sorry, sir, but we don't allow full face coverings on the property," the beta female worker - Jenny, according to her name tag - informs Simon.

"I'm not wandering around without a mask of some kind," he grumbles in response. When the woman doesn't back down, but keeps smiling weirdly up at him, he sighs and rolls his shoulders. "Fine," he conceeds.

Without another word, he turns while fishing a black surgical mask from his hoodie pocket. He swaps his balaclava for the surgical mask as quickly as he can then turns back around to face her. Jenny looks ready to protest again when another beta worker - male this time - rests his hand on her shoulder.

"I'll take it from here, Jen. Go check on the omegas in the medical wing. New arrivals," he smiles warmly at her and nods.

Jenny's smile falters for a moment but it returns and she nods then walks off.

"Nice to meet you, mate. I'm Frank. Welcome to Salvation's Whitestable location. What can we do for you?"

After going through the legalities and paperwork, Simon was able to set up an appointment to meet the omegas in the facility. The soonest they were willing to schedule such was the following week. Something about not wanting to "overload the omegas since so many are curious about them and want to take them in."

It made sense on the surface, but it didn't settle quite right with Simon. Nothing he could truly do about it, though, so he signed what was needed and waited until the agreed upon day.

It'd been about a week since we'd had any visitors - which tracks, by my timing, since it seems we only get them about once a week. I find visitors annoying as all hell. They're just alphas sniffing around for a desperate omega anyway. Most of the omegas who leave are likely better off in this hell hole anyway.

At least while omegas here their needs are respected. For the most part.

When we're called out to the yard for "fresh air", I knew it was just visitors. They have us on a strict routine and don't let anyone see us inside. Claim it's too dangerous, too many places to hide and find trouble.

It's a nice day, I guess. Not super cloudy and definitely not raining, sun's out even if it gets tucked behind the clouds once in a while.

Gods, I can already smell the alphas.

My nose wrinkles and I toss an annoyed look towards the gates where the alphas are waiting for entrance. When the gate opens I roll my eyes and look away, focusing on the book in my hands instead.

"Why don't you ever engage with them?" a voice whispers from over my shoulder.

"I'm busy, 1211," I tell the younger omega flatly without looking up.

"But the alphas are here. A few of us might get to find a mate today," she exclaims excitedly before something catches her attention and she darts off.

I sigh softly and close my book. She'll likely leave today, being so close to her heat. It makes her more desirable, even if she's still loopy as hell. I pity her, honestly. This place may be weird, but at least it's known and familiar.

Well... it is for me. I've been here since they opened this facility. If I'm calculating correctly, I've been here for a full year as of today. Most omegas are out in one to two months.

"Any reason why you're camped out under a tree and not... interacting with literally anyone else?"

I jump at the sound of the man's voice and my book falls from my hands. Before I can react and save my book from the ground, a gloved hand shoots out and grabs it.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he says as he walks to stand in front of me.

My book gets turned in his hands and I slowly follow his hands up to his partially covered face. Jesus, how tall is this guy? I'm tall for an omega but this guy might as well be a damn tree! He's even as wide as one.

"Tolkien, huh?" he asks as he hands my book back.

I stay quiet but nod and accept my book. No way in hell he's not one of the alpha visitors - never seen a beta built like this - but I can't smell him.

"Not a talker?"

"Not really," I finally say.

His eyebrows twitch upward for a moment before returning to the neutral expression he's been wearing since he stepped in front of me. Probably wasn't expecting me to be American.

"Me either," he says after a moment. "Probably why I'm here, huh?"

I give him a look of confusion at that.

"I don't socialize much so I'm- nevermind," he sighs. "Mind if I stay here for a bit? There's just too much going on elsewhere right now."

"Isn't that why you're here? To find a high energy, cuddly, and loving omega?" I ask dryly. "I know a few of the girls would be ecstatic to go home with an alpha like you."

"Yeah... maybe. Until they realize what my job is and just how often I'm away from home because of it," he scoffs.

"And what is your job?" My eyes narrow as he speaks.

"I'm military," he says simply. When I don't respond, he sighs. "I'm gone a lot. Many missions require minimum or no communication. There's no rushing home from work or random phone calls."

I glare up at him, considering what he's saying. Then it hits me and I start laughing.

"Oh, man! You're a decent actor, I'll give you that. How much did they pay you? Is this a script they gave you or did you just come up with this on the fly? Bonus points for doing it on the fly, if so. I knew they were itching to get rid of me, but damn-"

"The hell are you on about? I'm not an actor."

The genuine offense in his voice makes my laughter fade.

"You weren't paid to tell the 'stupid omega who can't figure out she's an omega' that you have a lifestyle that she would fit into nicely?" My arms cross over my chest and I give him a look of disbelief.

Rage seems to filter into his eyes for a moment.

"Simon," he says, offering his hand.

My eyes fall to his hand and I hesitantly accept it.

"Nice to meet you, I guess, Simon," I test his name. "I'm known as UK-009-0013 or 13 around here."

And never anything else.

Masterlist | Part 1

Tag list: @lucienofthelakes

[queer-ragnelle]

can you tell us more about gingalain? he seems intriguing but i don't know much about him

I sure can! Here are the texts that center his story.

Le Bel Inconnu (French)

Gilglois (French)

Wigalois: Knight of Fortune’s Wheel by Wirnt von Grafenberg (German)

Carduino (Italian)

Sir Libeaus Desconus (Middle English)

Vidvilt (Yiddish)

His name differs depending on the text (as shown with the titles) but in Le Bel Iconnu [The Fair Unknown] his baptismal name is revealed to be Guinglain; varied spellings of that name appear in other texts so, I'll adjust my spelling accordingly.

Anyway the gist of his origin [most of the time] is that Gawain meets and falls in love with a mysterious woman but has to leave her to return to his duties at King Arthur’s court, only to discover he can no longer return to his lady/wife who lives in an impenetrable Otherworldy bubble. Years go by and their child grows up. The child eventually leaves home in search of his father. He ends up at King Arthur’s court but remains anonymous, so Arthur dubs him “The Fair Unknown,” for he’s handsome and skilled at arms. He goes on adventures with ladies, fighting giants and dragons, eventually revealing to Gawain that he's his son by the fairy/Otherworld lady.

"Guinglain’s" coat of arms in French Le Bel Iconnu is a lion...

In German Wigalois it’s a golden wheel of fortune...

In Middle English Sir Libeaus Desconus it's a griffin...

But when you google the character by name, Guingalain or Gingalain, it's this shield which pops up:

Now it's a pretty badass shield, but where does it come from? It doesn't appear in The Manuscripts and Patronage of Jacques d’Armagnac, where Gawain and his brothers first got their coats of arms. Evidentially this image comes from Le Blason des Armoiries by Jérôme de Bara, published in 1604, from which many knights received their coats of arms including Sagramore, Kay, and Bedivere.

Gawain's son appears in the supporting cast of many other texts. He's called "Gyngolyn" at the end of The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle.

And "Gangalayne" shows up again in Le Morte d’Arthur alongside his father, Gawayne, half brothers, Florence and Louel, and uncles, Agrauayne, Gaherys, Mordred, and Gareth.

Sometimes he keeps the title "The Fair Unknown" even after his relation to Gawain is known, as in the 2nd Perceval Continuation.

Some texts develop him into a fully fledged character beyond his origins, such as in the Prose Tristan, where "Giglain" fights Tristan and then reports back to a grieving Isolde that Tristan still lives.

And in the Post-Vulgate, "Guinglain" guards a bridge and challenges any who try to pass, including Galahad, Arthur the Less, and Palamedes.

He also appears in some retellings.

The best example is Gillian Bradshaw's trilogy. He's called "Gwyn" and his parents are Gwalchmai and Elidan. Their romance covers book 1, Hawk of May, then Gwyn is discovered in book 2, Kingdom of Summer, and his paternity revealed to Gwalchmai on Elidan's deathbed in book 3, In Winter's Shadow. These books are fine, but so slow, and started the trend of replacing Lancelot with Bedwyr to keep it more "historical/Welsh," meanwhile Agravain is still a character and Medraut is a bastard of incest and all the Orkney bros are actually Irish. So what was the point of that? I'd rather Lancelot had been there, particularly because Gwyn's death occurs when Bedwyr comes to rescue Gwenhwyfar from her fate and Bedwyr kills him, unarmed, to get her. So it follows the French storyline anyway. I do adore how much everyone loves Gwyn. Afterwards, Cei is acting as lawyer to work out Bedwyr's story against Medraut's, and they have this exchange:

Gwyn was everybody's baby boy. Then Cei describes the extent of Gwalchmai's grief, including having the horse he gifted Gwyn slain and burning all his belongings.

Cei likens it to the grief felt at Agravain's passing. So this is good food for Gawain and family enjoyers, but as I said, not a huge fan of Bedwyr/Lancelot hybrid as Gwyn's murderer.

In Persia Woolley's third book, Guinevere The Legend in Autumn, introduces the character. But she's so unpleasant about her characters of color...

Yeahhhhh. Long story short, Ragnelle is a fey nomad that lives among the animals she herds. She was unable to be made "civilized" and left court, evidentially sending her son "Gingalin" to be fostered by Bertilack, then given to Gawain after his Green Knight quest. There's so much unnecessary emphasis on their skin-tone coupled with the way their culture's framed it's just. Ick. I hate it.

In Howard Pyle's fourth book The Story of the Grail and the Passing of Arthur, "Gingaline" is mentioned in the line up of knights who join Agravaine and Mordred in the ambush of Launcelot and Guinevere. Ironically, he isn't mentioned as Gawaine's son, but his half brothers, Florence and Lovel, are.

Since Ragnelle and Gromer Somer Joure are both present in Pyle's series, I'm going to assume "Gingaline" is Gawaine's son. I know it, in my heart.

Lastly, in The Green Knight (2021) movie, Gawain has an unnamed son who dies in battle. He's Guinglain. To me. If I squint.

So what do I recommend reading? Of the Medieval stuff, the French story Le Bel Iconnu is the origin, so it's a great place to start. The English Sir Libeaus Desconus is short and sweet, with a really great scene of his kinsmen, Gawain, Agravaine, and Ywain, plus friends Lancelot and Perceval, arming him. Yiddish Vidvilt is also fun, it resembles the German Wigalois the most, which is my favorite.

And that's everything I got. As you can see there's a lot of Gawain's son in Medieval stories and not very many in modern ones. I love him! Let's includes him in more stories, shall we? :^)

[possibilistfanfiction]

arcane prompt "hospital"?

[jinx deserves the world, also it's nice to let cait use her girlboss disposition for good sometimes, yknow. ao3 here.]

///

you hand caitlyn a cup of black tea she probably thinks is beyond shitty; it's all they had at the cart in the courtyard, and you still have no idea how to make proper tea anyway. still, she smiles — small, and residually scared, but genuine — in thanks. she's been crying, you can tell: her eyes are red-rimmed and the sweater of vi's she'd thrown on in the middle of the night is rumpled around the sleeves, like she'd used them to wipe her tears.

'she's going to be okay, right?' you look at vi's still, bruised form in the bed. 'they didn't, like, tell you really bad news while i was gone or something.'

caitlyn steadies herself. 'no,' she assures you. 'she's going to be just fine.'

'okay,' you say, and you trust her because she loves vi and because she's a doctor, and mostly because at this point caitlyn wouldn't lie to you. you scoot your chair forward and lace your fingers together with vi's hand, the one without an iv taped into it, and squeeze gently, just a hello. the doctors had explained that she's on a lot of medicine to keep her comfortable, plus the anesthesia from her surgery, so she's not going to wake up until midday at the earliest. but just in case she can feel you, you want her to know that you're there. you remember coming out of the worst sedations, medication that was wrong for you or just way too high a dose, to vi slumped next to your bedside, her big, strong hand steadfast around yours. 'did you see her x-rays or medical history or something?'

'i didn't intend to,' she says in way of an answer.

'ah.' you fiddle with vi's fingers. 'gnarly, huh?'

she puts her tea down on the small table near the bed and runs a hand through her hair before she scrapes it up into a messy ponytail. 'i knew, in theory,' she says. 'we've talked about things, of course. i'm able to help take care of when her chronic back pain flares, and how she really should have a surgical repair on her bad shoulder. but, i just, well. i suppose i comprehend the breadth of it now, more completely at least, the details in a way i can understand.'

you don't know; you don't ever want to know, not like that. vi still has nightmares about prison, still doesn't eat enough sometimes, still refuses heating pads and advil sometimes after a hard shift. 'yeah.'

'and i suppose, too, that it's hard to know how much she's hurt, even if it's so much less bad now.' she shrugs, helpless, and looks at you. 'i just love her.'

it had been terrifying, to get a call in the middle of the night from the fire department: vi had been in a building when it collapsed, and she was hurt and it was, potentially, very bad. you're not sure who they'd called first — you or caitlyn — but she'd texted you a minute after and offered to pick you up so you could both wait at the hospital while vi was in surgery. it had taken two hours before her dad came out and explained that vi had some internal injuries that still needed more fixing in surgery, as well as a few bruises and scrapes, but she would recover fully with time.

'you should move in with each other,' you say.

caitlyn pauses for a few moments, but then she lets out a quiet laugh. 'how long have you been holding that in?'

you shrug. 'you guys have been together for two years. i know vi wants to.' you don't mention that you hack into caitlyn's person email on occasion, just because you like to be nosey; you don't mention that you'd seen her and vi send property listings back and forth the last few months. 'i know she hasn't said anything to me because she doesn't want to upset me, or make me think like she's choosing you over me, or whatever.'

caitlyn considers it calmly. 'she would never do that, you know.'

'yeah.' you do; it's the thing you know most in the world. 'i also know that she's scared that if she doesn't help me at much, i'll have another episode.'

that, caitlyn has no response to.

'i've talked about this a lot in therapy.' you squeeze vi's hand, just in case she's listening too. 'at first i couldn't manage any of it without her, for sure.'

vi had spent her first month out of prison visiting you in your tent in the scariest part of town, not pushing, just bringing you food and warm clothes, comfortable blankets; she'd sit with you for hours if you'd let her, even if most of the time you talked to voices only you could hear and saw things she never would. finally, you agreed to go to the hospital with her, and from there it was more months of getting clean, and trying different medications, and really lame group therapy, and coming to terms with your diagnosis. vi was there as often as she could be, clean-cut for once while she went through the fire academy. you don't remember many details, but when you'd finally gotten released, she'd brought you to this small, rundown one bedroom apartment that she'd made as nice as she could. the first night you were home, she fell asleep in bed next to you in less than a minute, a few tears on her cheeks, seemingly of their own accord. it's always been a measure of love you'll always be a little in awe of.

'but, like, i remember my meds on my own now. i have a system.'

caitlyn's smile is honest-to-god proud. 'that's no small feat.'

you try to act nonchalant, but she's right: most of your medications have side effects that require other medications to off-set, and it's a nightmare if you don't coordinate them properly. 'and, like, my graduate program is going well, and i have friends, and i like climbing. i feel, not good, i guess. maybe i'll never feel good. but i feel real, and most of the time the world feels real too.'

caitlyn lays her hand on top of yours, and vi's.

'anyway,' you say, clearing your throat so you don't cry. you run your free hand through your hair, grown out some now after your "interesting decision," as vi had said, last year during a meltdown. 'vi can move out, and ekko can move in to our apartment. he's —' your boyfriend? your best friend? your favorite person, other than vi?

caitlyn smiles gently. 'he is.'

'he knows what to do, if i need help.'

'and i know you want to live with vi, and i know she wants to live with you.' even though you invade their privacy by checking emails, you'd never spill the beans that they've both individually been looking at rings. 'i can manage, without her there as much. i don't think either of us ever thought that would be our reality, which is why vi hasn't brought it up. i know she's still scared, probably forever. it was scary.' you take a big breath and then let it out; when you'd first gotten your diagnosis, it seemed like you would never get to be a full, independent person, and then it would be a death sentence. 'but i want to try. i can try.'

caitlyn squeezes your hand, and vi's too. 'i believe you will do wonderfully, in both my professional and personal opinion.'

'oh. really?'

she nods. 'you haven't had a full blown episode in over a year. i see you manage your days, and your impulses. clinically, you're actually a great patient. personally, you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but not because you're unwell.'

'just because of my stunning charm and incredible sense of humor? my flair for the dramatic?'

'something like that, sure.'

you laugh. 'thank you, so so much.'

she rolls her eyes but she's still fond of you, especially in the early morning light. vi's eyes are both bruised blue, but caitlyn had told you that surgeons had finally fixed her broken nose after it broke again this time: you're pretty sure vi hasn't been able to breathe properly since she was, like, twelve. at the very least she'll snore less, so a win for all of you. 'we found a house we want to put an offer in on,' she admits.

'yeah?'

she nods. 'it's not too far from your place, and it's right on the park.'

you scoff, just for posterity. 'fancy.'

she's unfazed by this point. 'we — well, vi was going to tell you, but i know it's fine if i do. we know you and ekko want to keep your current place, and i'd actually like to sit down with both of you and see if there's any way i can assist with your rent or other budgetary items.'

you're definitely, 100% about to cry, all of a sudden.

'she is so proud of you, for even being able to consider pursuing increased independence.'

you sniffle.

'but, the brownstone we're looking at also has a fully finished basement, with a bedroom and a small living area, its own bathroom. we've planned for it to be your space, whenever you want it, for any reason, for however long you'd like to stay. a night, a year. you will always have a home with violet, which means you will always have a home with me too.'

you have to do your deep breathing: sometimes kindness, especially given freely, is what makes the world slide most off-kilter. there are always voices telling you that you don't deserve good things, that caitlyn, and vi, and ekko, and vander, and even caitlyn's parents, when you go over to their giant ass mansion for celebratory dinners or parties, are lying to you. but you put your head down against your joined hands and count to ten, whisper it aloud, and then sit back up. caitlyn is waiting patiently.

'how big is the house?'

she laughs, heartily, and pulls out her phone to show you pictures and specifications. it's beautiful — not that you'd ever expect less of caitlyn kirammen — but she also tells you the plans she has to decorate, and your chest aches with a happiness so tinged with grief when she casually explains things vi wants in each room too. it's a life you never dreamed you'd get to have, and you know vi has probably been having total menty-b's about all of this, but she deserves a home more than anyone you've ever met.

'it's fine, i guess,' you say, after caitlyn finishes showing you their plans for the patio and yard.

caitlyn laughs. 'up to your standards?'

'could use more neon.'

'keep it confined to the basement, and you've got a deal.'

'ugh.'

'the only request i have is that you not blow it up.'

you pretend to contemplate. 'that's reasonable, i guess.' you look around at all the monitors proclaiming your big sister's strong heart and lungs and brain, despite it all. 'vi's gonna be so relieved that we don't have to have a heart to heart when she wakes up.'

caitlyn looks at the still planes of vi's face adoringly. disgusting, still. 'she'll be difficult enough as it stands, i'm sure.'

'total pain in the ass.'

////

you spend the first night after vi moves out in your apartment with ekko, and you fall asleep with your head tucked into his chest, safe still, even now. that weekend, you haul a duffle bag of your stuff — clothes, toiletries, a quarter of your lab, a few cans of spray paint — to vi and caitlyn's new house. neither of them are home yet, vi stuck grumpily on desk duty for the evening and caitlyn's meeting running over.

but your key turns in the lock, and your favorite snacks are stocked in the pantry. eventually, they both get home, and they're happy to see you, and caitlyn laughs at the improvements you've already done to the walls of the basement. vi ruffles your hair and you bully both of them into ordering tacos like you want, even though they have plenty of things you could cook at home. caitlyn is polite enough to let you curl up with vi on the couch, just for tonight, and you fall asleep, safe and warm, there too.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hey, so this might be kind of unusual/weird for an Anakin request (? more like a wish tbh), but I'll toss it in here in case you're interested or find this one fun

a fluffy (mostly) sfw thing about AOTC!Anakin who's gotten somehow teleported in y/n's reality (modern AU) having bonded with y/n over their time trying to figure out a way to get Anakin back safely

basically Anakin giving words of encouragement and appreciation and hugs and kisses to a person who's done so much to try and help him with this completely absurd problem even among the stressors of her own daily life that still goes on in the background

like a cute moment of the two just chilling one evening and him thanking her for everything in the best way he knows

+ canon typical awkward flirting maybe 👉👈 because he is kind of crushing on y/n, isn't he

Whenever you turned your gaze towards your window, all you saw was a soft, dreamy purple, streaked with gold while the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. You and ANAKIN SKYWALKER were sitting side by side on the couch, in such quietness and calmness that was too often a rare moment in your life ever since he'd stumbled into your reality. On your lap you held your tablet, scrolling through forums and articles with furrowed brows, hoping to find literally anything that could help

"You're too good at this," he said suddenly with voice warm yet low.

your lips curled into the softness smile "Too good at what? Staying up late to doom-scroll weird theories on the internet?"

"No," he shook his head, golden, short curls catching the light. "Too good at... everything. You’ve taken this insane situation and somehow made me feel like I’m not a complete disaster for being here."

You laughed softly, nudging his shoulder with yours. "I don’t think you’re a disaster, Anakin. Well… maybe not a complete disaster, anyway."

He chuckled, grin boyish and bright yet his expression so quickly softened. "I mean it, though," voice quieter now. "You didn’t have to do any of this. You have your own life, your own worries, and you’ve still gone out of your way to help me. You didn’t even freak out that much when I told you I was from… another galaxy, another time.." his thumb nervously digging into his second finger

You shrugged, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I figured if I could survive adulting and terrible coffee, I could survive you."

His lips twitched in amusement, yet his gaze stayed on you, uncharacteristically serious for someone like him "You’ve done more for me than anyone has in a long time. I just... I wanted to say thank you. For all of it."

His flesh hand brushed over yours, fingers curling tentatively around your skin, bringing it closer, to his lap, his long fingers stroking over your knuckles or the palm of your hand in repeat motion

"You don’t have to thank me," your tone soft, eyes gazing straight into his ocean ones then back at your connected hands "I couldn’t just leave you to figure this out alone. And besides…" you hesitated, suddenly shy. "I like having you here. Even if you do steal my phone charger and complain about modern plumbing."

He groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes and immediately letting go of your hand to highlight his sudden state even more "You wound me, angel. I only complained once.." when you offered him a sceptically raised brow, he added "all right..twice"

You shook your head, laughing not so loudly. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re amazing," he countered without thought, only causing his ears to flush a faint pink. It looked like he was just caught red-handed, as if he may take it back, yet, he kept going nervously, shyly "I-i mean it. You… you’ve been a lot of things to me, but most of all, yo-u’ve been kind. And I, uh...i won’t forget that."

Before you could reply, he tugged you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist in a hug that was both awkward and heartfelt. His chin rested lightly against the top of your head, and you swore the position wasn't the best, but being snuggled to the Anakin Skywalker, repaid everything.

For a moment, neither of you dared to say anything. Just being wrapped in his young arms, ear right where his heartbeat was settled, gave you a peacefulness you've been missing through these days. And of course, your nose couldn't help but pick up the faint smell of your body wash he had stolen this morning - men..

"Anakin," you murmured after a moment, cheek resting against his chest.

"Yeah?" voice hesitant.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, hand still lightly resting on his chest. "You’re not so bad yourself, you know."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne

[saiintvalentiine]

three dog night

Summary: three dog night - a night so cold that it would take three dogs to keep warm.

It's the longest night of the year. It's the coldest too. Something escapes into the depth of the forest, and Wato is about to find out an unfortunate truth.

Word count: 3,081

Notes: heavily inspired by stories of the Korean gumiho, I bring to you: my insane ramblings that I'll be passing off as a Christmas gift for you guys. This is a real mess so you'll have to super suspend your disbelief for it. Warnings for gore, violence, and death. Feel free to point out any SPAG errors, b/c this is unedited af. Enjoy.

The cold feels good. It's painful on his face, biting his nose and chapping his lips. But his heart, missing its pearl and as black as the night sky, beats easier in the freezing temperatures.

The hunger is the only thing keeping him upright.

He has no idea how long it's been since he escaped the facility. Time moves like sludge in the winter, white flakes on his white hair on a white world, with only the white moon watching between the pines. It can't have been more than a few hours.

There's a man walking. He's walking through a forest alone, which is strange and dangerous, but the man smells like liquor. It travels through the air like a whip crack, his tail puffing up in subconscious disgust. A rotten liver. But the man’s heartbeat is strong and hot and loud, and he is oh so hungry.

Even in his current state, it's easy to crack the man's skull open with a rock. His body gags, tries to bring his pearl up only to come up empty. Pearlless. A dud. He doesn't care. He descends upon the body, tearing through fabric and flesh all the same, and finds the still-beating heart between splintered rib bones. The first bite is too hasty, splatters blood all over the exsanguinating corpse and his face and clothes, but the hunger dulls— it's not about the blood, after all, although it does soothe his throat. He eats every scrap of muscle until his breath starts to run hot enough to fog in the air.

The liver is, in fact, rotten to the taste, but he eats it anyway. None of the other organs entice him, speak to him, demand his teeth on their sanguine surfaces. He contemplates taking the man's shoes, but as he licks his hands clean, he decides he's taken enough. The body would dissolve away soon enough.

He struggles to stand up, snow sinking and melting with the warm blood. He's still hungry. He gags again, coughs out a spray of sparkling black. No pearl. Just the starry darkness on his chest. If he doesn't keep eating, he won't last, not without a pearl.

He tries to wipe the blood off of his face, but he can't see if he's making any progress. Burying his hands in fresh snow, he rubs it into his face, pointed ears flicking to catch any suspicious sound.

He stands up, bare feet padding through the snow in a staccato. His face is wet and cold, globs of pink snow dripping down from his cheeks. He doesn't really know where he's going, just that he is, and that he needs to eat again.

It's the longest night of the year. If there's one drunk, there's a hundred. He'll eat again or he'll die, and he can't die so soon after breaking free, so he will eat again.

Wato is pretty good with the cold. It doesn’t bother them as badly, wolf blooded as they are, but it’s still cold as fuck out here. They heard someone say it was going to be the coldest night of the season tonight, which they’re not too sure about, but it feels like the coldest night of the season so far. Though—

Wato’s memory has been spotty lately. They’d never say that their memory was the best, but it had never been so bad. They’re not even really sure what they’re doing in this town surrounded far and wide by an old growth taiga. This is, maybe, they think, the town where Wifies has his big ole escape room warehouse. Craning their head, Wato spots the looming shape of the bulky building, taller than most of the buildings in town but smaller than the spruce trees. Wato’s been there a few times, helped make a few rooms. Checking their chat, it looks like that’s exactly what Wato was doing here. The last message in Wifies’s chat is from Wato announcing they’d arrived.

Memory problems are no joke. Wato really needs to get onto fixing it. It's just a bad season for that kind of thing, with daylight hours so scant and time already stretched thin.

Walking through town feels like walking through a shut-down movie set. Everything is quiet, the only movement coming from a bar Wato passes with disinterest. The snow dampens all sound, freshly laid though the sky is clear now, so low and quiet that even their ears struggle to catch much. There’s a clear border where the town ends and the forest starts, and Wato stands on the threshold. Digging through their pockets, they’re thrilled to find their box of cigs and lighter. Popping the box open, they snort. One cigarette is left, flipped around.

“It’s my lucky,” Wato mutters, pulling it out of the box and flipping it back over the right way.

Holding the correct end in their mouth, they struggle with their lighter for a few moments. It sparks but doesn’t light, and the wind isn’t helping. Through the sharp, grating noise of the sparkwheel failing over and over, they hear. . . something. It’s quiet, but it sounds like someone panting or breathing heavily. Their ears flick, angling towards the forest. Glancing over, Wato doesn’t see much, but the treeline is thick and dark. They pocket the cigarette and lighter.

“Hello?” Wato calls out. “Is there anyone out there? You okay?”

The noise stops. The crunch of snow takes over. Someone with a notable limp from the sound of it.

“Hey, if you need help, there’s still places open in town,” Wato calls out.

Their suit and loafers are ill equipped for the snow. At least the streets are salted. They’re not going into the brush if they can help it. There’s movement, tree branches shaking and shedding a thin layer of snow. From behind an ancient trunk, a white head with pointed white ears appear— and then red, staining the tangled tips and neck of—

“Wifies?!”

Wifies— it can’t be Wifies, Wifies has dark hair and soft, folded ears that are only mottled with small spots of white. But it’s Wifies’s face, gaunt maybe, eyes the wrong color, a shimmery violet-gold instead of deep dark brow.

Those violet eyes dilate. The pupil eats the iris up until he looks more right. Wato takes a step towards him, slow, since they don’t want to startle him if he’s hurt.

Wifies books it in the other direction.

Wato doesn’t think about it; they make chase. They’re not sure if it’s concern for Wifies, or an unfortunate trigger of their prey drive, but it doesn’t matter. They can’t just let Wifies (maybe Wifies?) go if he’s hurt. The scent of blood is thick, tangy, easy to follow, and Wato lets their nose guide them to weave between trees.

The limp is even more noticeable now that they can see him, along with the absolutely drenched state of his clothes, with both blood and water. Even in their horrible shoes, they catch up to him easily.

“Wifies! Slow down!”

He might say something like no, but the air whipping past them both destroys all sound. Wato hates to do this, but they can’t think of a better solution. Bracing their shoulder, they speed up and ram right into Wifies’s back, knocking him flat. Wifies goes rolling, like a white and grey bowling ball, crashing into the stump of a felled tree. Wato cringes as they slow down.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to stop you!”

Wato slows down, crouching in front of Wifies, body winded from the chase.

“Wifies—”

He darts up and hisses, all animal instinct and fear and sharp, sharp teeth. Wato doesn’t flinch. This. . . Imposter Wifies? Is clearly some kind of fox, tail puffed and ears pinned in fear. Wato can out run him if need be. Foxes are sly but he’s already hurt and slow. He struggles to climb over the tree stump and away from Wato while keeping eye contact.

“You’re not Wifies,” Wato says. “But you look like him. Who are you?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, voice crackling, sounding just like Wifies, a non answer. “I like you. You were nice to me. But I’m hungry, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

What?

There’s a crack. Both Wato and the fox snap to attention. The wind that cuts through the trees is blowing away from both them and the noise, so Wato can’t smell anything about what it might have been. The fox shifts until he’s behind the stump, and Wato can tell he’s getting ready to run again.

“Your leg’s busted,” Wato whispers, still staring into the depths of the forest. “Where are you even gonna go?”

“I need to eat,” the fox says, then again, “I need to eat,” and then he spirals, hysterical but quiet, “I need to eat, I need to eat, I need to eat.”

Another crack. The fox scrambles back. An arrow whizzes through the air, burying deep into the top of the stump at an angle. Wato jumps away, and the fox scuttles like some kind of prey animal behind a tree.

“Did I get him?”

It's disorienting seeing Wifies, the Wifies that Wato knows, come into the clearing, while the fox that wears his face sits only a few feet away. He’s holding a crossbow and is wearing a lab coat that has to be doing absolutely nothing for the cold.

“Did you just try to shoot him?” Wato says, processing what just happened.

Wifies glances over, void eyes sucking in the bright moonlight like blackholes.

“He stole my face, Wato,” Wifies says, a black ear twitching. Wato can’t help but flick their own ear out. “Plus, he’s not some innocent little fox.”

“He’s already hurt.”

“Oh? Did you get that eating your first real heart, 24?”

The fox gags. It’s a disgusting noise, like he’s trying to drag something up and out of him, but nothing happens— at least Wato can’t hear him throw up or anything of the like.

“No pearl, no heart, no name,” Wifies notches another arrow in his crossbow, and Wato feels their hackles rise. “And a stolen face. Make this easy for me, 24.”

“I’m not going back,” the fox says, snow crunching as he retreats.

“Wifies, what’s going on?” Wato inches closer. “I was here today. We were working together. This is—”

“I was hoping you would’ve left already, because prolonged exposure makes you hard to control,” Wifies sighs, pulling something out from the inner pocket of his lab coat. “But I guess I can work with a few more hours of exposure.”

Wato sees the mask. It’s the Omz Mask, the one they had to pry off of Ken’s face. How the fuck was it here? Why did Wifies have it? The crossbow is pointed at Wato, mask held out casually.

“Put it on,” Wifies says.

“Do you even know what you’re holding?” Wato asks, stepping back. Wifies matches them step for step.

“I know. Put it on.”

“No.”

The crossbow fires, and Wato dodges, but it manages to clip their shoulder. Harming radiates off the wound, blurring their vision. Wifies notches another arrow.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Put it on.”

Jesus fucking Christ, what has Wato gotten into? Their eyes dark around, trying to find— something! Anything! A wisp of red circles behind Wifies.

“I won’t,” Wato says, voice rising. “What’s gotten into you?! Put the fucking crossbow down. That mask is dangerous, Wifies, it destroys the psyche of whoever wears it, did you hear what it did to Kenadian?!”

“It was Kenadian’s blunder that allowed me to get to it in the first place. He’s the fool who—”

A branch cracks across Wifies’s temple, thick and dark and wet. Wifies is felled, though he manages to trigger the crossbow on his way down; it sinks into Wato’s thigh, and Wato falls back onto the snow with a scream. The fox lifts the branch again, shaking, sleeves sliding down, and Wato’s focus comes in and out, but the fox is bludgeoning Wifies as best as he can. It's sickening, and Wato feels bile rise in their throat.

“Stop,” they cry out. “Stop!”

The fox stops, dropping the stick and looking at Wifies.

“I need to eat,” the fox says. “I have no pearl. I need to eat.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Wato is willing to believe that this is all some kind of horrible feverish nightmare as the fox drops down on his knees and begins to tear through Wifies. He digs into Wifies's back and rips him apart, blood scattering like snowflakes in the air and stringy muscle melting into powdery white. The sticky haze of pain from his leg, the dizzying realization of where his memories may have gone, being threatened by someone they thought was a friend, and now a fox plucking a human heart out and eating it like it’s an apple— it’s all too much. Wato tries to crawl away.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” Wato says over and over again, because they need to say something to the sight of a— they think it's a kidney? They don't know, they're not familiar with internal organs. “You're eating him, what the fuck!”

“He has it,” the fox whispers between bites of viscera. “He has to have it. He likes trophies. Where is it?”

Through the fox’s scratching and digging around, he finds “it”, Wato guesses, because he makes a thrilled chittering noise and holds something small and round to the light.

“My pearl,” the fox says, opening his mouth and dropping the pearl in.

The strangest thing happens, though Wato isn't sure if it's the strangest thing to happen tonight. The fox straightens up and his face brightens. Wato hadn’t realized, but this whole time, the fox’s breath hadn’t been visible until now. It rises like steam off his face, and he shudders. He then continues to loot a dead body he just cannibalized.

Wato is still unsuccessfully trying to get the fuck away when the fox stands up and stalks over to them.

“I like you,” the fox says, like he’s trying to remind Wato’s muddled mind.

“You just killed a guy! A friend of mine!”

“He was going to put the mask on you,” the fox kneels and grabs Wato’s ankle. “Stop moving, I’m gonna get the arrow out.”

“I’m going to bleed out if you do that!”

“Nah.”

Nah? Nah?! What world is Wato in right now? The fox straddles their calf.

“Stop it,” Wato bares their teeth, trying to growl through the nausea.

“Wato!”

Wato snaps up to look at the fox, covered in gore, stained ears to tail in red and pink, and doesn’t know what to say or do or feel. The fox wipes a bloodied hand through the snow, then wipes it on the back of his own sweater, and then places a potion bottle in the snow next to Wato’s hand. Their suit is heavy with melted snow, clinging to their skin and numbing their senses.

“I need to get this out,” the fox says, bracing his newly “cleaned” hand on Wato’s thigh next to the arrow’s barrel. “And you’re going to drink that when I do.”

“Are you fucking delusio—”

The fox yanks the arrow out of Wato’s leg, and Wato chokes on their words and collapses onto their back. The arrow is tossed away and the fox swirls the potion in Wato’s sightline.

“Drink,” the fox insists, tipping it into their mouth.

Wato only struggles for a moment, until the taste of melon convinces them to swallow. It hits their system like a wave, the wound on their arm closing first, and then the pain in their joints disappearing next.

The fox stops about halfway through the potion. He puts it back in the snow and scrambles off and back to Wifies’s body. Wato sits up, panting, watching the fox take the Omz Mask in hand.

“Wait, wait,” Wato grabs the potion, their leg still bleeding. “What are you— you can’t take that!”

“I like you,” the fox says, taking a step back, then another. “But I don’t trust you.”

“Please, just— don’t go, explain to me what just happened?”

The fox hesitates, and Wato drinks the rest of the potion, finally able to stand up again as the arrow wound sews shut.

“No,” the fox decides, turning around and running.

“What the fuck,” Wato freezes.

Wifies’s body is here, but the fox killed him, so it’s— fuck. Wato curses and follows the fox. Even with the head start, the fox still has a bad leg and the tang of blood trails him like a ribbon. Wato only realizes where they’re heading for once the silhouette of the warehouse breaks through the treeline, the fox zig-zagging between trees and around the northernmost wall of the warehouse. He cuts around the front, and Wato hurries— they have no idea how to get into the warehouse if the fox locks the main entrance, and they don’t have anything to break in with right now.

Rounding the corner, Wato has to stop and catch their breath, because the fox is gone. Checking the warehouse door, it’s unlocked. Wato doesn’t want to go inside. What they want is for their inconvenient memory loss to be convenient for once, and forget whatever the hell just happened, and leave.

“Wato?”

Turning around, Ken stands behind them in a puffer jacket and beanie.

“Wato! Are you okay?” Ken rushes over and grabs Wato’s arms, inspecting them with an increasingly furrowed brow. “I haven’t heard from you in two weeks dude, what’s going on?”

Wato doesn’t know what to say. Their legs hurt, their lungs are filled with pins and needles, and their head can’t stop replaying the decay of their night.

“It’s a three dog night out here,” Ken mutters, shivering. “Can we go in?”

“You have no idea,” Wato replies. “And you will not fucking believe what’s happened to me.”

The sharpened smell of blood is gone, like the fox hadn’t cut through here at all, but Wato knows that can’t be true. The sky is still dark and the night still has legs and Wato has seen more than they know what to do with. It all presses against their mind.

They say the only thing they can think of.

“Ken, I think I’m in trouble. I need your help.”

[spxnglr]

When your OH apparently cannot wait four days until your Anniversary so he decides to propose in your living room on a random Saturday afternoon while you're literally minding your own business.

The ring is gorgeous though, so I can't complain too much.

[classicslesbianopinions]

the thing about being a disabled grad student is that if you want even half a chance you constantly have to not only reveal but interrogate and explain your softest most vulnerable parts. while people around you act like this is just completely normal and actually that is not the softest most vulnerable part of you and actually you are exactly the same as all of them. so you feel like you are in disguise as exactlythesame while also completely exposed. and you just have to live like that. absolutely insane

[alongtidesoflight]

so here's my honest thoughts on dragon age: the veilguard, after ~40 hours of playing. i finished the main quest after having finished all companion quests and major faction quests. just to clear up what content i saw, i played as an elven transmasc rook who is a member of the lords of fortune. he romanced lucanis (although after finishing the game i'm now leaning towards taash). i don't know what's happening in playthroughs that have a different race, gender identity, romance or faction going on.

full spoilers ahead, i mean it. don't read further if you want to avoid them. i don't want complaining about it in my asks.

oh and also, if you're worried because of a few negative reviews online i can comfort you by saying don't give a fuck about a certain big name youtuber who is very much tied to bethesda franchises giving this a negative review. i'll explain why.

i'm starting off with the things i liked

the game looks really pretty. i was worried it wouldn't feel like thedas anymore (with them trying to "focus on northern thedas only" i thought they'd make a clear cut in environmental design. they do and they don't. it's complicated. i'll elaborate on it when talking about the negative stuff). anyway it does. minrathous feels like kirkwall. treviso enchanted me like the winter palace did. the hossberg wetlands reminded me of the hinterlands and a couple other inquisition maps. arlathan looked like... arlathan. the crossroads were different, but familiar. overall i like the way it looks and feels. it's thedas, with a twist. it's a good one, and gives everything a solid but unique feel.

combat is top tier. if you're a hardcore dragon age player you WILL miss the tactical aspect of it for a bit, but i promise you, once you're used to the way the combat works, you will be lapping that shit up. and once you get to ability combos you'll mourn the control you used to have over your companions in battle a bit less

the MAIN quest and its story. i expected worse, way worse. and for a while the game even had me tricked (harr harr you'll get it in a second) it is Really That Much Worse. but holy shit was it good. i walked away satisfied ngl.

your choices have SOLID weight. there's consequences, good AND bad. i got minrathous blighted, ruled over by venatori, and the leader of the shadow dragons ultimately died because of my decisions. i made those at the beginning and throughout the game. he died at the end. DAVRIN died because i didn't expect what i was saying to have that much weight. i thought i was in the clear. he had hero status. well turns out, your choices can still get your companions killed even if you do everything right. i fucking love him. he shouldn't have made that sacrifice just because i told him to do everything it takes once.

the inquisitor, morrigan and dorian being there, surprisingly. there's also negatives to this though, see below.

speaking of companions dying and the inquisitor playing a bigger role: the final quest feels like me2's suicide mission. i was blown away by it and the fact that i got to see the results of all my efforts playing out in front of me.

bioware are NOT trying to redeem solas. they love him as a character yes, but i wasn't forced to see any good in him. he betrays you. he fucked my rook over twice. he fucked him over right back, for good this time (the veil wasn't torn down, i anchored it by binding him to it, he's doomed to uphold it). but solas really lives up to his name as the trickster elven god. rip to all the people who grew really attached to him over the years.

varric died. if you like him that's probably as hard reading it as it was watching it. varric died and the game lies about it until the very end. when the realisation hits, it hurts. but in the very best way.

the amount of care they put into gender expression and trans identities this time around. (i'll add onto this with negative points as well too).

rook feels very much ingrained in the world of thedas. he doesn't ask questions that expose the player to lore through dialogue as if he's stepped foot into thedas for the first time. those conversations feel very solid and good. i hope other faction players got as much joy out of this as i did.

and the things i didn't like and boy there's a lot unfortunately

the music. let's just get that out of the way holy shit. it doesn't feel like it belongs in this universe. it gets so incredibly sci-fi-y at times you'd think it's taken straight from mass effect andromeda. there's not a single song unique to veilguard that i really enjoyed. it broke my immersion, real bad. hearing a busker play the tavern songs from inquisition on a lute right after i killed some venatori with wobbly bass songs playing in the background is just odd. weird tonal shift. don't like it. it's made for people who like flashy light-weight cinema.

tevinter nights is required reading. the podcasts are required listening exercises. the game is so fast paced, especially at the start, that there's no time to introduce you to characters and how much weight their names carry in-game. i would not have known who half these people are if i hadn't skimmed over tevinter nights. i'd care even less about them than i already did. there is no time to get properly attached to them. people will act as if you're talking to a legend personified and you'll be thinking man goddamn which chapter of tevinter night were they in again and what did they do???

there's a weird mismatch with the animations. you'll have beautifully fluid ones, like emmrich casting spells. and then you'll have rook's face animating in the most unnatural manner that's sorta reminiscent of mass effect andromeda's "my face is tired" addison, when their emotions SHOULD be landing with the player rn instead.

i'm not vibing with the art style. sometimes it works. most of the time it doesn't. at points i felt like i was watching tangled.

that also brings me to some of the dialogue. same issue. i am watching frozen. i am watching tangled. someone on the writer's team really likes the adorkable trope. bellara is its victim.

for all the talk about identity, bioware sure doesn't like theirs. the grey warden armor got a redesign again and it just makes them look like a generic army. i hate it lol

in general, i don't like the armor design. the wardrobe/appearances system is fine, but it's just not helping if all the armors are just... kinda bland or downight bad looking? and don't get me started on the lords of fortune armor. that is orientalism personified.

the world states should have been carried over, full stop. i know they said they didn't because they want to separate what happens in the north from what happens in the south, which... i could have lived with that. but the inquisitor sends you letters that keep you up to date on... the south of thedas. you learn that there's a blight again, that people are standing strong but it's difficult, denerim's fallen, the rulers are taking care of it, orlais is fighting and they're successful for a while, etc etc. what's good bioware. i thought we don't care about the south this time around. why are you feeding me so much boring generic information. if you're not gonna show any of it and just write letters, then carrying the world state over should not have been an issue. i have a game dev background. those few lines of code would not have broken your budget or pushed your engine's limits. fuck right off.

this gripe of mine carries over to all the cameos. as a lord of fortune you have to deal with isabela a lot. it's fun. i missed her. you get to go drinking with her and taash and bellara! also my hawke romanced her. she's not mentioned once. they had the opportunity to put a sentence or two about her in there with not a lot of effort, trust me.

when varric dies, all she has is a single line about it. for gold, for fortune, for varric. she only says it if you interact with her on your way to the final push. that's not mandatory.

morrigan is there. kieran isn't. the old god soul that mythal and then solas absorbed? who cares at this point, the gods are dead now and solas is locked away for eternity. i suppose? why is morrigan there. she feels unneeded. i wish they'd just left her down south, at least that way i wouldn't have had to witness her god awful redesign.

dorian at least feels as if he belongs in this story. the shadow dragons are a crucial part to protecting minrathous. he's also weirdly underutilised. isabela and morrigan had more lines than him in my playthrough.

on the topic of romance: bro that was underwhelming. no, genuinely. you know when romance picked up a bit? after the point of no return. i heard maybe two lines of companion banter about it before that. maybe i missed something which i honestly doubt, but romance did not play much of a role in lucanis's storyline. i saved his grandmother as he wished me to (and if you read tevinter nights you know she was rather abusive and their relationship not the healthiest) and told him to focus on his family. a reunified family my rook wasn't even introduced to as a partner at the end of all that.

really, do not buy this game if you're only in it for the romances. others might be better, lucanis's basically gave me nothing. except for an outing (the second coffee date i had with him, it was getting repetitive) all of it played out once i committed to the final quest. the sex scene was a fade to black. annoyingly right after davrin died. if you're looking for well paced and good spice, pick up something else. the sweet talk and the final goodbye were nice though.

for all the good the ever-presence of gender identity does, it is brought up in such a disruptive manner too. it doesn't even play out naturally if you CHOOSE the lines that are meant to be said. hearing the words trans and non-binary in this setting doesn't feel right, and i'm saying this as a trans guy. i think it could have been handled more gracefully. the amount of times my rook went "i'm a MAN" as if he's about to start drumming on his chest and roaring any second now got super nerve-grating. "i'm so glad you're into me... the me who is trans. remember?" just. tell me one trans person who'd talk like that to a person they've grown close with and are trying to romance. this game doesn't handle sexuality well, so all this hey my body might not look like the way you're expecting it to look talk amounts to nothing anyway. i feel about this the way i feel about krem: this is partial exposition to trans experiences... packaged up for cis consumption. the ONLY exception to that is interacting with taash. holy shit was all of that heartwarming and bro did it feel good and natural to talk to them about theirs and rook's gender.

rivain and nevarra are new locations added by veilguard. they're also incredibly underwhelming, small and constricted maps. rivain is a coastline with a few ruins. the hall of valor is a partial ruin nestled into a cave on a beach, with a fighting pit. isabela is there in her skimpy outfit commentating your pit fights. that's it. i'm sorry if you were looking for a bustling pirate cove or whatever. you're not gonna get it. the nevarran crypts btw are a long ass dungeon crawl. that's it.

speaking of maps. i thought people were being dramatic when they said you're gonna be fighting the same enemies on them again and again. i thought they were figure of speeching it. they're not. you WILL fight the same amount of enemies. in the same spot. every time you reload the map. best to stay on a map and clear out the enemies and do as much questing on that map as you can before leaving, because you WILL have to do it all over again once you return.

the three choices i made for my inquisitor didn't matter lol she didn't have to face solas and therefore couldn't stop him at any cost as she had sworn (maybe because my rook tricked solas into binding himself to the veil, there was also an option to fight him. would she have stepped in? who knows). blackwall wasn't mentioned. and either her using a small amount of her forces in the final fight was the reason the civilians of minrathous fared so well..... or it just didn't matter. ultimately i think she had very little impact on anything

[kaiserouo]

puppies go shopping

idk if that color makes it better or not so im just leaving the normal version here

[elusiiev]

OMORITOBER DAY 14: LIBRARY

i like to imagine spirit mari tossing down her favorite memories for omori to read while peeking around to see omori's reaction :3

i was thinkin of drawing her too, but honestly i wasnt very sure what pose to do and i was a bit tired !!

thanks to @/ntrogensolar for the omoritober prompt list!

extra rant in the tags ab why this isnt a full piece!

[ladyrijus]

Thinking about how Link trembled before Mipha's statue in Breath of the Wild as he remembered who she was to him, and how his heart must have ached in Tears of the Kingdom when he saw her again in the beautiful court built in her name.

[hikarielizabethbloom]

Reading and watching Miv and Charlie's interviews is so interesting because they've been saying over and over what I've been saying over and over about Gal/Sau relationship. Sometimes the same fucking words. Did they go through Tumblr posts, saw some of mine and thought 'I like this'? Or are we we simply on the same wavelength.

Either way, it's funny that some fans that are now cheering, got into a tantrum and called me a bad shipper for writing down the same thoughts.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

nah cuz I would pass away if someone asked me if I was into them 😭 but CONGRATS ON GETTING THE DATE!! I hate to say we told you so, but we definitely told you so 😌💅

Bro I literally short circuited lmaoooo like it was not cute and I almost died fr. But yeah, date secured ahskaksk y'all were right 😭 it still feels so surreal lmao I'm still vibrating about it

[orcelito]

Considering the. Ahem. Ways this year has gone, I've not been thinking about it all that much, but. I did start this year with the motto of Year Of Unfucking My Life. With a few goals involved in that.

I got an official adhd diagnosis, as well as a diagnosis for PCOS. Other diagnoses in progress. Gotten adhd meds and birth control to regulate periods. I've gone back to school and I'm keeping up with it better than ever before. I've even been working on practicing driving, something I've been largely neglecting since I first got my driving permit, um... 11 years ago...

I just need to actually Get my license. And I need to get it before the end of the year. If I can accomplish that, then I'll say the Year Of Unfucking My Life was successful.

[agendratum]

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