#my legacy right here

[1uckygold]

Ominis: What are you doing?

MC: Shh, I need complete concentration. I'm trying to pick a lock.

Ominis: Are you using Alohomora?

MC: No, I want to learn how to do it without relying on my wand. What if I forget it and we need to rescue someone from being locked up?

Ominis: I highly doubt any of us would be foolish enough to—

Sebastian: *banging on the door* Oh, Merlin! MC, something just brushed against my leg!

[vaguely-concerned]

To the ‘themes I am picking up on in Veilguard’ list, let's go ahead and add what I have a sneaking suspicion will actually turn out to be The theme:

— the world has changed and can never be as it was again.

— I have been changed and can never be who I was again.

— in this simple unavoidable truth there is endless grief and endless hope.

And I… may be getting a bit emotional about it haha. Let me show my work a bit: 

if da:o is a game about people who are already dead or half ghosts in some form (through societal forces, psychologically, functionally, literally, in body, through the joining etc.) coming together anyway to save the world from being swallowed by total nihilism and despair (symbolized by the blight) through the power of love and friendship and also this sword/potential heroic sacrifice that I found, da2 is a game about people who have lost their homes and been set adrift finding and building new homes in each other (while completely failing to save the world. also through the power of love and friendship. as well as years of petty bickering <3 we must imagine kirkwall if not happy then worth having been because the love was there the love was there and that's the only sanctifying force we can ever have in this doomed world and city of ours), and da:i is a game about old stabilizing-but-unjust comfortable lies vs. disruptive but potentially liberating uncomfortable truths, and the power of friendship to help us distinguish the one from the other and navigate through them...

folks… I'm starting to think that veilguard might be a game specifically about moving towards recovery and acceptance after trauma — about how even in this flawed, severed, scarred state, what is here right now is worth loving and worth caring for. even in an imperfect and impermanent world and self, there is worth and joy. and of course the first real tragedy — and threat — of Solas is that he just cannot find it in himself to accept this and move on, to let go of what was, the regret won’t let him go or he won’t let go of it. which means that even though on the surface it’s Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (and the will to subjugate and violate they represent) who are the main villains, the real antagonistic force in this story beneath that is the Dread Wolf’s despair. A despair Rook must make an answer to by the end of the game, one way or another, compassionately or with righteous fury, triumphant or pyrrhic.

The world will change again and again and so will you — BUT the crucial element is that so will everyone else who exists along with you, you are fundamentally not alone in this existential truth. all we’ll ever have is each other and my god that is plenty, my god that is enough!!! Which is the second thing Solas just can’t accept, he keeps himself separate and completely alone out of an awful mix of fear and pride and feeling himself unworthy of anything else. Rook and the player want to save the world of Thedas because it’s where everyone we love lives, Solas wants to go back to the past because that’s the only neighbourhood where he can still visit those he loved — and the person he himself was, before. A very sympathetic and human instinct/trap to fall into when touched by trauma, I think, if only it wasn’t backed by godlike power, a fundamentally oppositional personality, and a catastrophic lack of therapy to make it literally everyone else’s problem too lol. It’s varric and solas’ banter about the man on the island and where meaning in a life comes from all over again, writ large and with detail work — and the added idea of ‘what if there are also other islands out there, though. With other people on them that you could find if you reach for each other’. Rook with the best of intentions has to make choices to which there are no perfect outcomes and live with what happens — and not cut themselves off from everyone else around them even when there is regret or shame. You get back up every day and you make a life with other people doing the same and you do your best, and that’s the only victory this world will give you. In the end, that is more than enough, that is essential. And I um. I love that. So much. It’s why some of the writing clumsiness on top can’t hurt me because this thematic spine is so solid and so beautiful to me. It’s DA2 all over again that way for me personally — I forgive this story for what it isn’t and couldn’t be, and I love it with my whole stupid open heart for what it actually is. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk and goodbye etc.      

(For my fellow TLT heads out there — you know what this story is reminding me of most of all, actually? It has some big Nona the Ninth vibes down there in the deep. It’s about��� the horror and unspeakable beauty that can only be found in liminality, and the role of love in making that basic fact of existence bearable. And also even more unbearable at the same time. I'm so sorry.)

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

It’s like having two dogs

Neuvillette smells Foul legacy

Foul legacy smells Neuvillette

Imagine if Neuvillette goes to visit and it’s on one of those days that Foul legacy is tending to melusine y/n

little Melusine with their Abyssal monster and Hydro Sovereign protectors hehehehehee

almost IMMEDIATELY Foul Legacy's mane of ginger hair ruffles and puffs up, crystalline eye locking with Neuvillette's. the Iudex stops in his tracks, the slim azure antennae hidden amongst his hair shivering as a low, almost inaudible growl rises from his throat. Legacy matches it, and for a moment they just glare at each other while you look back and forth between them, shaking your head in exasperation. you slip off of Legacy's lap and skip cheerfully over to Neuvillette, taking his hand in your mitten and gently tugging, tugging until he stands before Foul Legacy and stares down at him with suspicion and wariness. instinctively he attempts to push you behind him, but you evade his arm and happily curl up in Legacy's lap again, and Neuvillette can only blink before slowly sitting down in front of you

the dragon and the monster regard each other silently- they're supposed to be mortal enemies, after all. eventually Foul Legacy's wings lower, slowly, neatly folding against his back. he gives Neuvillette a tentative chirp, and you smile up at him, colorful little tail waving in the air. the Iudex sighs, giving you a small smile in return and leaning in, quietly asking you to tell the story of how you met this... armored, glittering beast. your bloopy antennae twitch in delight as you sit up, leaning back against Legacy's chest with his arm around you, and both of them listen to you regale them with a long, thrilling tale- minus the parts where you got stabbed, of course

[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[offonaherosjourney]

Can't wait for Witchbrook? Then go play these games that are already out!

Potion Permit: Moonbury's residents need healing, and you're the best chemist around! With your trusty tools, a brewing cauldron, and a canine companion at your side, you'll need to diagnose symptoms, gather ingredients, brew potions, and cure ailments in this open-ended sim RPG (from their Steam page).

Little Witch in the Woods: Little Witch in the Woods tells the story of Ellie, an apprentice witch. Explore the mystical forest, help the charming residents, and experience the daily life of the witch (from their Steam page).

[aurorangen]

Who is this guy?

It's none other than Mrs Kobayashi's grandson Riku! Riku is the only relative who lives the closest to her, so he finds the time to visit outside his busy work. Training on the slopes can be intense and he's also a model from a popular agency, but he tries to come at least once a week. When he came today, his grandmother was so excited to introduce a girl to him! Well he's been single for a while and he loves meeting new people; of course he'd be happy to go on this blind date!

[blog-of-gourd]

what if mr sands was scary

(ID in ALT.)

[booasaur]

Monarch: Legacy of Monsters - 1x04

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[bonsai-babies]

Yes, yes, I'm so happy with the arrival of the rest of the season, can't wait to see my baby girl being badly written again, to see more dumb lawrusso drama and stupid hetero couples being forced down my throat

Oh, so happy

[shorthaltsjester]

@percahliaweek Day 4: Scars / Tomb

Perc'ahlia + An Intro to Forgiveness (and, worse, being forgiven) // Snow and Dirty Rain by Richard Siken

[myokk]

💘

[sheergeekypanic]

[possiblyfunny]

I forgot how to make posts, but don’t worry guys, I’m still alive-

Ghostly Assistance

Heyyy! I finally drew Leaf! (Plus a slight Aster redesign-) This took way too long, and I apologize for the delay and the overall messiness. She had been sitting in my drawing program as a sketch for two months 😅 but with the Flashbacks up starting in Missing Numbers, I finally got the will to finish it!

Leaf Aoyama belongs to @creatively-cosmic. They have a blog called @themissingnumbers, which you should check out, like—right now.

[Sketch + Extras below the cut!]

Here’s the cover of the book, if you wanted that- (I know it’s crap but I’m tired)

[And for those who are curious, some notes about the art:

-The book is Aster’s. He’s read the book cover to cover well over 25 times. It’s his favorite book on flowers, but he’s more than happy to lend it to someone who wants to learn about flora.

-The content of the art (because there was intended to be a background that got scrapped-) is that Aster was showing Leaf around his secret garden deep in the woods, guiding her so that she wouldn’t get lost and showing her the different flowers and such. (That’s why she has the book-)

-You know how in some video games, you can press a button and whatever special companion you have will show up to give you a hint? (Ex: Navi, Fi, Rotom, Olivia, etc) That’s what Aster is doing right now. Whenever Leaf had a question—he had the answers.

-And if you’re wondering—Yes. Aster did make her a flower crown afterwards. And Yes, he thinks she looks very beautiful with flowers in her hair.]

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Breaking Ajax out of prison. *waves* Hi Wifi! Sending this brainrot in. Enjoy the vacation!

***

You are Wriothsley's well-traveled sister. You've been away from Fontaine for a while, growing your business in Liyue and Inazuma. You walked with a purpose, towards your brother's office in Meropide. Except, you know he wasn't there. He had taken the day off and you were one step closer to being a criminal. You were disgusted at the verdict of the justice machine installed at the Opera Epiclese. You received a letter from one of his agents and your friend, Violet, as you so casually called the Electro Cicin Mage. You rushed back home when you found out that Childe was behind bars.

How dare the nation of justice snatch away the only person who convinced you to live? You met Ajax during a dark period of your life. You had challenged the Oceanid in Liyue, with no intention of fighting back. It was a bit poetic how you wanted to lose your life to water, after leaving the nation of hydro. Ajax watched the battle unfurl from the edge of the mountain, only to notice that you weren't moving at all. You fell to your knees, eyes shut and waiting for the rushing tide that never came. When you opened your eyes, blue eyes peered at you with concern and curiosity. Electro buzzed in the air, only to dissipate with a flick of his hand, as he switched off his Delusion.

Now, it was your turn to save him. You only hoped that your brother's stories were accurate. Your brother has been trying ro recruit you for years, saying that your skill would be very useful in bringing in criminals. Little did he know that you would use the skill that he praised you for, not to bring in criminals but to break out one. Hall after hall, you walked, using the vapor in the air to conceal yourself. Ajax is a Harbinger. They would have kept him in the cells with more security. You just needed a distraction. Thankfully, Violet and her fellow agents, are there to cause a ruckus. You've reached the deepest part of the prison. Your eyes searched for dark, ginger hair - passing by a couple of cells before hearing a muffled groan. You followed the sound, dropping your cover and came face to face with eyes as blue as the depths of Fontaine. Ajax stares at you with alarm and parted lips. Placing your index finger on your lips, you requested his silence. You shut your eyes, concentrating as you became one with the water. Your body separated into tiny bubbles that passed through the small opening of the cell. Your flesh coalesced back into one piece. Ajax' arms found your waist, face pressed against your neck. He had gone too long without you. Your scent brought him comfort.

"Jax," you whispered. "Priorities." You pushed something cold into his hand.

"Oh. My vision," he smiled softly.

"Archons, please do not leave your vision behind. I almost had a heart attack when I saw that it was dull." You bit your lip, turning away. "I thought you.."

Lips pressed against your nape softly before settling on the back of your head. "Sorry. Never again."

A sigh escaped your mouth. You could never stay mad at him. Not when he had to endure being imprisoned. You eyed the inside of the cell.

"But love, now that you're here. What's the plan? When are you visiting again?"

You turn to Ajax with a winning smile, one that you often saw on his face instead of yours.

"I'm not visiting. We're getting out."

You explained how Fatui agents were ready to serve as distractions in different parts of the city. There were mekas prepared to go berserk and run loose. Fontaine is organized, they will subdue the threats quickly. You just needed enough time to get Ajax out.

"How are we getting out? My blades are sharp and ready. Or I could transform." He paused. "I just...i actually just didn't want to transform because of your brother. Didn't want to leave a bad impression."

Your hands found his cheek, stroking softly. He leaned into your hand.

"You've held out long enough. This time, I'm the one saving you. We're leaving without a trace."

His eyes widened slightly.

"I have been practicing a lot. I can do it now for extended periods of time. I can maintain the unseen form for more than one person."

Ajax titled his head to the left, giving your hand on his cheek a soft peck.

"Whatever happens, I'm proud of you. Thank you."

Before you could respond, there was a series of explosions. Shouting followed, then footsteps as guards ran towards the entrance of Meropide.

"Hold my hand. Don't let go."

Ajax stepped closer to you, slotting you against his body as he hugged you right.

"Well, that's also a way of holding me."

Ajax chucked, as he placed his chin on top of your head. Your locked your arms around him. Shut your eyes and both of your bodies dissolved into bubbles. This time, you needed something more advanced than bubbles, you needed to be vapor. Unnoticed and unseen. As vapor, you passed through the high security cells now devoid of guards. You passed through the halls. The strain of the concentration wore you down. But Ajax kept you going. Finally, you passed through the reception and the entrance. You were at the edge of Opera Epiclese but you kept the form for a little while longer. Your forms plunged into the water, now zooming towards Elynas. You online relinquished your hold and control once you've reached the shore. Your forms coalesced back into human bodies.

Ajax' arms were still around you when you fell to the ground in exhaustion. Your breaths came hard and your mind burned in pain. Worry etched over Ajax' face. He needed to take care of you now.

You opened your eyes after a deep sleep. A single crystalline eye peered at you. Happy chirps followed as Legacy nuzzled you.

"Legacy?"

Understanding the question in your voice, Legacy gingerly took a note from the desk and pushed it into your hand.

Childe's wrote: Legacy's face is not recognizable.

You were in an old house that seemed to have been abandoned. The bedsheets seemed cleaned enough. The floors look like they have been mopped recently. In the corner of the room, you spotted a mop with it's handle broken. Legacy must have tried to clean up. You smiled at the thought.

Breaking Ajax out of prison took more effort than you thought. But pushing yourself to the limit proved that you could do it. Your skill was useful after all. Legacy nudged your hand, asking for pets. You scratched behind his horn, earning a rumbling purr. You nuzzled into his side, while petting him. Although on the run and officially a criminal, you felt safest with Ajax and Legacy. You would break the law over and over again if it means keeping them safe.

MACCHIATOOOOO I MISSED YOUUU ;v;;;; AND THIS IS SUCH A MEAL I AM EATING THIS UP

you have to rest for a couple more days after you wake up- pushing yourself so much completely sapped your energy. Legacy does his best to care for you, fetching fruit and flowers from outside while you're confined to bed (the flowers are to cheer you up, because he knows you love them so) and nudging your shoulder with his head to get you to lay down. he desperately wants to make sure that you don't exhaust yourself more, and he WILL lay on top of you to make sure you don't move- carefully, of course! his head nestles in the soft skin of your stomach, brilliant sapphire eye looking at you stubbornly as he lets out a light huff, having found you trying and failing to stand for the third time that day. and once you begin to recover, he helps you walk, gently holding your hands with his claws or even carrying you in his arms to go sit outside for some fresh air, the cool ocean breeze washing over you

there haven't been too many mekas looking for you and Ajax- if you were being honest, you suspect Wriothesley being your brother had something to do with it- and the few that did come after you were swiftly dealt with by a protective Foul Legacy, eagerly bumping his forehead against yours afterwards for pets. he hasn't seen you in so long, after all, always shut away in Ajax's mind even when they were both thrown into prison. he tried to tell the Harbinger that he could help, he could get them out of there, but Ajax always refused! Foul Legacy was so lonely; it was like drowning in a cold, starless sea, bringing back memories he'd rather forget. so he clings to you now, craving the sensation of your gentle hands running through his hair, soft and fragile after being surrounded by the cold metal of the prison. sometimes he finds his thoughts drifting back to icy water and chains and bars and the crushing pressure of the sea, and he curls around you with a whimper, wanting to be held until he drifts off to sleep, comforted by your presence

when you're asleep and he knows no one else is around, Ajax takes over for a few minutes, pulling you close to his chest and murmuring that he missed you so, so much, speaking for both him and Foul Legacy

[incorrectlasthours]

So we all agree Jesse is going to be the next one to run the London Institute right