#sobbing ™

[stonesunk]

I will reach out regarding my starter call (if you liked it today) probably tomorrow or Monday. I’m having a horrible time ™ rn since my mood plummeted into the core of the earth. I’ll be unreachable on here tonight - spotty on discord.

[zaahvi]

"a story, unfinished..."

• prints •

[gomzdrawfr]

content warning: angst, MCD

this is a redraw of this doodle

extra note:

zoom

anyways this started because someone retweeted the doodle on twitter, I looked at it and went hm I wonder how the current me would draw this, so I did just that

[himluv]

Lost and Found, pt. 2

Chapter 52 of Say My Name (say it twice) is here. You should probably read part 1 of this if you haven't yet, but, well. Lucanis is done wasting time.

Read it below, or over on ao3. Enjoy!

They were real. They were here. They were alive. And Lucanis was done wasting time. 

He kissed her, tremulous and desperate, and stood just enough to guide her back onto the chaise. Her hands gripped his shoulders, just as desperate, and pulled him down with her. Lucanis lay between her hips, their bodies pressed together, and not even for a moment did they break their kiss. She needed him, his weight and his taste, just as much as he needed her warmth and her smell.

And though they’d been here before, had done far more intimate things than simply lay together, kissing, Lucanis knew that this time was different. This time, there would be no stopping. Tomorrow they would face the remaining gods, the final threat to Thedas, and nothing was guaranteed. 

He would not waste this time with her, now. 

She deepened the kiss, her hand in his hair, and Lucanis moaned at the surge of heat up his spine. Mierda, he’d felt nothing for so long that it almost felt overwhelming to be with her like this now. Every sensation felt new. Amplified by the relief that kept jolting through him. 

Embria was here. She was real. She was alive.

Spite’s wings unfurled, surrounding Lucanis and Embria, but the demon made no attempt to speak or to take control. He simply cradled them, sheltered them in an impenetrable space made of warm breath and gasped names and hands that roamed over each other as if to prove they were real. 

Lucanis reached for Rook’s hair, unwound it from her usual bun. Some of the strands were still damp, but mierda she smelled so good, so much better than the echo of her pillow had been. He pulled gently, tilting her head back to trail kisses down her neck.

She gasped, her body writhing beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut. 

“You’re here,” he whispered against her throat. “You’re really here.”

“Promise?” She breathed, as if afraid to break the spell of whatever cruel illusion this might be. 

Lucanis looked down into her face, brushed her hair back behind one ear, and waited for her to look at him. When she did, those crystal grace eyes stared up at him, wide and a little afraid. “I swear,” he said and kissed her to prove it. 

Rook moaned around his tongue, her hands fumbling with his lapel pins. He helped her, then dropped them onto the floor beside the chaise. If they broke, he’d just get new ones. He didn’t care, not now. 

Then her fingers were on his waistcoat, the buttons much easier for her to undo. They sat up just enough for him to shrug out of the vest, heedless of where it landed, and then Lucanis pulled her shirt over her head and threw it away from them. 

She lay back, and for a moment Lucanis just stared at her. At her bare skin, flushed from her throat down through the valley of her breasts. Skin he had thought never to touch again. His eyes welled up once more, but he chased the tears back by focusing his attention on her chest. 

Embria rolled beneath him as his mouth closed over one nipple, his hand in her hair to pull her into a delicious arch against his body. Even as she panted, her hands were on his chest, fighting with the buttons. 

“Shirt,” she growled. 

He hummed against her breast, smiled when she shuddered, then sat up to do as she asked. She followed him, her hands hurrying under the fabric to feel his skin before he’d even finished unbuttoning it. Then she pushed it off his shoulders, down his arms, and pressed her mouth to his collarbone. 

Lucanis hissed, his head fell back, and he panted up at the ceiling. Then his shirt was gone, thrown somewhere to join her shirt and his waistcoat. When she pulled him back down to lay on top of her, she hummed her pleasure at the press of his erection against her heat. 

Maker, this felt so good. It always did, the pressure, the friction, the warmth. But this time was so much more than that. It wasn’t just good. It was right. For the first time since he and Rook had become physically intimate, Lucanis didn’t feel nervous. 

He knew what he wanted. And he wasn’t afraid to let himself have it anymore. 

Lucanis ran his fingers along the waist of her leggings, and before he could even ask, Embria nodded. 

“Tell me,” he murmured. 

She licked her lips. “Yes, please.”

Lucanis growled, then pulled her leggings down over her hips. She lifted them to help, kicked away the fabric, and then her hands were on his belt. 

“Yes,” he said. “Maker, yes.”

She unbuckled it and pulled it so quickly that Lucanis grunted. Her eyes flicked up to his, checking in, but she was met only with hunger. He’d liked that little display of forcefulness, much more than he would have expected. He liked being wanted. 

Then her hands were on the button of his slacks, her eyebrow raised. 

“Yes,” he said. 

Embria made quick work of his pants, shoving them down his thighs, and then they both laughed as they realized he still had his boots on. 

“Mierda,” he cursed as he stood. He kicked off his boots and stepped out of his pants faster than he ever had in his life. Rook watched him, her face flushed and fire in her eyes. Then she pulled him back down until they were pressed against one another again. 

For a long while, they only kissed. Hot, desperate, feverish kisses, with roaming hands determined to feel every inch of exposed skin. Then they rocked against each other, moving slowly, experimenting with so little fabric between their bodies. Heat pulsed and thumped a torturous rhythm between his legs, and Lucanis knew he needed her. Now.

“Embria.” His lips brushed against hers as he breathed her name. “I want you.”

She shivered beneath him, and though her body blushed crimson and her voice was rough with desire, her eyes were clear. Clear and so serious. “Are you sure?”

He looked down at her, ran his hand through her hair, and smiled. “Yes.”

Embria smiled up at him, and Lucanis thought he had never seen anything so bright, so beautiful in all his life. 

Then she reached for his shorts. 

There was no hesitation, no anxiety. Her hands were on his stomach, hips, thighs. She was warm, her fingers blazing a trail down his skin, until he was bare before her. Then he pulled her shorts down her legs and finally, in the pale blue glow of the aquarium, Lucanis saw all of her. 

He ran steady fingers across her belly, down to that spot she’d shown him all those weeks ago. She gasped as his fingers found her most sensitive places, and he moaned at how wet she was already. 

“Mierda, Rook,” he groaned. 

She bit her lip and rolled her hips against his hand. He watched her, watched his hand move on her body and his blood thrummed at the sight. He bent to kiss her chest, her ribcage, her hips. And as he drew closer to his hand, he could smell her desire – it set him on fire from the inside out. 

He withdrew his hand, and she mewled at the loss, her hips shuddering. But then he pressed himself to her, felt the heat and wet of her against his length and they both gasped. 

Lucanis looked down at her, his gaze surely full of awe and just a little uncertainty. He’d read plenty of books – he knew what he was supposed to do. But, reading a fictional description of the act and actually doing it were very different things. 

“I have you,” she breathed. She reached down, her fingers guiding him to where he needed to be. Her other hand was on his low back, reassuring and warm. “Slow,” she said. 

He nodded at her reminder, knew that it had been a long time for her, and then carefully thrust his hips into hers.  

Lucanis had thought of this moment many times over the past few months. Had imagined it and dreamt of it. Had known to expect heat and wet and pressure. Had known it would feel good. 

And despite all of that, nothing could have prepared him for how it felt to finally experience this with the person he loved. It was all that he had expected, but also so, so much more. 

It was overwhelming, in the best possible way. The physical sensations, yes, but also the emotional ones, too. She was here and she was real and she was so alive beneath him. All he could smell was her hair and her skin and her desire. She was soft under his hands, her heat exquisite around him, and as he looked down at her face Lucanis thought his heart might burst. 

For a long moment, they didn’t move. Lucanis propped himself on his elbows above Rook, their hips flush together, and he just breathed. Even Embria seemed to need a moment to adjust, to get accustomed to the feel of him pressed deep inside her. She was breathing hard, her eyes closed and her lips parted. 

Then he moved, gently. Slowly and only a little. An experiment that made them both moan and shudder. Lucanis dropped his forehead to hers as he found a slow and tentative rhythm. They shared breath and a few gentle kisses. But mostly she clung to his back and shoulders as he rocked into her, the heat and tension building steadily in his body. 

This could not last long. 

“Embria,” he panted. He was burning up, his blood roaring through him. He was losing control, his thrusts faster and erratic as he neared his release. “I – mierda, I can’t–”

“I know,” she said. One of her hands was at the back of his head, her fingers curled in his hair. The other was still on his low back, guiding his hips in the right rhythm. “Let go, Lucanis,” she said. “Come for me.”

That was all it took. 

Everything seized, his eyes closed tight as he groaned and his body flashed with heat and electricity. His hips stuttered through his climax, and Embria moaned and licked her lips as she watched him. She moved her hips beneath him, making him gasp. He was so sensitive, but Maker it still felt so fucking good. 

And apparently it had been just the thing she needed. He watched as she arched beneath him, her body fluttering around him as her fingers dug into his scalp and his hip, dragging him down against her, filling her up as much as he could in the aftermath. 

Mierda, she looked magnificent. 

It took several moments for them to separate, and when they did, they both groaned at the loss. They lay panting, tangled up on the too-small chaise, sweat making their skin clingy. As if even their bodies were reluctant to part. Rook ran her fingers through his hair while he traced idle patterns around her her navel. 

It took a while, but finally she spoke. “The aquarium doesn’t bother you?”

He stilled, but only for a heartbeat. “Not anymore,” he said. “Spite and I… spent a lot of time here.” he shrugged. 

Her chest shuddered beneath his ear as she inhaled. “Lucanis, I’m so so–”

“No,” he said and gripped her tight. “It wasn’t your fault, Embria.”

“I know, but–”

“No.” He craned his head to look up at her. “You’re here, now,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

She watched him for a long moment, then nodded. So, he settled back down, his body melding to hers like it had always known her shape. Like it was finally home. 

It didn’t take long for him to doze. There’d been so little sleep these past weeks, so little peace within his own mind, that the stillness he felt now was undeniable. 

“Are you falling asleep?” She asked, the lilt of a smirk in her voice. 

Lucanis blinked, his eyelids heavy. “No,” he said, petulant. “I never sleep.”

She snorted. “It’s all right, you know,” she said. “Spite and I can play cards, or something.”

He propped up onto one elbow to give her a teasing glare. “Don’t say that. I haven’t taught him Wicked Grace, yet.”

She smiled, a little amused and so, so fond. Lucanis had to look away. 

“I’m not afraid of him,” he said. “I just… don’t want to waste time, now that you’re here.”

She rolled her eyes. “You still have to sleep, sometimes!”

He smirked at her. “With you here,” he said, letting his eyes rove over her body, still deliciously bare beside him. “Like this?” He gave her his most salacious smile. “I think I’d rather stay awake.”

Embria’s eyes glinted with humor. “Just us, all night long?” She shook her head. “How ever will we pass the time?”

Lucanis considered it, and while he absolutely would go again if that’s what she wanted, when he thought of how he truly wished to spend the remainder of the night – possibly their last night together – he knew what he really wanted. 

He looked at her, and all pretense fled from his face. There was only the truth, stark and vulnerable. “Will you talk to me?” He asked. “Your voice is a comfort.”

Embria watched him, her eyes shining in the glow of the aquarium. She ran a shaky fingertip along his brow, down his nose and under one eye, then traced his lips. As if she were memorizing his face, or perhaps comparing it to the one she’d been shown in the Fade. Reassuring herself that he was alive. Then she smiled. 

“I’ll tell you the story the reckless hero, and how she stole the heart of a hapless rogue.”

Lucanis smiled up at her. “My favorite,” he said. Then he lay back down, his ear to her heart, and listened to her tell their story until he fell asleep. 

Sniiiiiiiiifffffffff. Smells like berries and fire. Like coffee and salt. Like sexxxxx. 

Determination and. Benevolence. Together again. Smells like. HOME. 

Rook speaks. Tells Lucanis. Without. Saying. 

We know. and we are. Warm. 

Rook is. Soft. Lucanis sleeps. 

And Spite purrrrrrssssss. 

Rook is back. Rook is ours. 

We. Protect. OUR Rook.

Alwaysssssssss.

[mobius-m-mobius]

+ BONUS

#should've known we were in for it when they started solving cases 😂

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

Arthur Lester moodboard

[tempests-bards-and-birds]

i've been trying to articulate why frieren hits me in the feels so hard for a while but i think i get it now (and i feel kinda dumb for taking so long to figure it out) - it's because of how gradually the weight of her experiences with the hero's party and emotions surrounding those experiences are built up, all while her own understanding of how to access the emotions that she would have felt because of those things but perhaps believed were pointless to try and grapple with is also slowly but surely developing.

from the very beginning, once she realises that she has well and truly run out of time with himmel, you can see the sudden weight of this loss drop on her in one moment of realisation and that she Doesn't Know how to deal with it - that the very thought of regretting something so wholly because she ran out of time - something that she believes she has an almost infinite stock of - is foreign; as the series goes on, though, and as you slowly understand that she does look back upon all of these moments that she had with him and the rest of their party with fondness, the weight seems to start to ease, if just a little bit at a time - while there is still grief for her friends, yes, she seems to be able to find more comfort in the fact that the times she spent with them were well-lived, at least to some extent; the fact that this is something that's built up over the whole story allows for this sense of gradual recognition of the past to be emulated for the viewer as well as frieren, and i think that makes it an even more effective story about grappling with the grief that results not necessarily from loss, but from the underlying fear that the loss was the definitive end of an experience that you were never able to get enough out of - because sometimes, the value of life can be found in the little things.

[sevenrestdays]

I was today years old when the realization that Sunday's stubbornness (Or determination, depending on how you want to look at it), shows beyond his own words and a part of the Sacerdos set, but also in his kit as a playable character.

Firstly, there's the fact that he uses the Harmonious Choir boss materials. That, in and of itself, is one of his biggest failures. (Although to him, any failure is probably a big failure...)

Yet using the mats from it to level his traces makes him stronger. It makes his buffs better.

It helps him uplift others easier, even if that failure has to stick with him for the ages.

And then we turn to the fact that his BiS set is the Sacerdos' Relived Ordeal set.

That is a reminder of every failure he has gone through across his whole life. One would assume a person would leave their old life behind, including outfit (Especially with one as specific as Sunday's) to move forward. But not Sunday.

He cannot move on from the past. He actively refuses to.

He may be branching out, he may be getting better, but he will never fully let go of what he's done wrong. He will forever keep that guilt with him, and use it for the betterment of others, even if it takes a toll on himself.

The description of each of the pieces is a memory. But none of them are fond.

All of them are a burden of some sort; a weight he has to carry.

Still, he continues forward.

Still, he continues to uplift others, even at the cost of himself.

A bird can shed their damaged feathers, but can the bird itself ever truly change?

~

I genuinely can't believe I didn't realize this sooner. It was RIGHT in my face in the description of the Sacerdos shoes. I saw it explain his determination and ideals, but I totally forgot to compare it to his actual playable kit...

"Only from the mire arise those who trudge and toil. I shall press forward, learning more from my stumbles than my triumphs."

Someone please tell me this makes sense, because it really does in my head. Maybe this is a stretch, but ufhghfh it's so depressing and I'm suing my brain for coming up w/ it

[ghostyr-el]

M27 never happened guys trust (delusional)

it's been months I've been wrangled head first back into dcmk and I'm hit with the same grief that is the m27 reveal. Just like I did when they first revealed them I will continue to pretend it didn't happen <3

[djevelbl]

Ough I missed out on the first half hour of Pili's stream :(

[fridayswewearorange]

you have no idea how happy it makes me that neil is canonically demi

[shadowoffandoms]

I. Just finished the good ending of omori (normal route). I’m crying. Holy shit.

[hazyletter]

flowers in spring, they bloom (just like my love for you)

"Hm."

Till startles when a hand takes a gentle hold of the side of his face, close to his bangs. He looks up from his sketchbook to see Ivan, with that crooked smile and stupid snaggletooth of his.

"What the hell do you want." Till deeply frowns at him, thumping the head of his mechanical pen on the surface of his drawing, already impatient.

Ivan merely raised a brow, and the slight perk of the sides of his lips is a telltale that he was clearly onto something idiotic once again. Till glares at him. Ivan stays unrelenting, continues to gaze down at him from where he sits on the window sill, the cherry blossoms on the side of the school carelessly falling and framing its white surface from outside.

It's a scene that Till is not looking back on, and he is not given any chance if he ever wanted to because Ivan guides his hands from Till's jaw, to caressing his cheek with a thumb, making its surface grow warm from the impact. Till purposefully rounds them with air on the inside and gets a hold of Ivan's arm, tightly.

"I said," Till glowered. "What the hell are you doing."

Ivan ignores him, does not acknowledge that Till did not in fact repeat his first statement like he should be, and pulls his arm up, plays with a couple of his locks, and puts them between his fingers. He takes his time to gather them all up behind his index's knuckle and with the normality of an affectionate persona, tucks them all behind Till's ear.

Till can feel the collision of skin on his ear's shell, and he resists a shiver, his hold around his mechanical pen tightening. It takes no genius to notice how red he'd gotten, even with his head tilted towards his sketchbook on his lap in which he also gripped on. He does not see Ivan's expression that way, but he feels the other's hand staying on the tips of his crimson ears, until they finally leave.

Till takes a deep breath with closed eyes, letting the rush of wanting to deck Ivan in the face flood through his veins, and he looks up with hands balled into a fists, scaldingly sharp daggers in his eyes locked and loaded, but the sight of a triumphant Ivan drowns it all as if his hearing was filled with water, the already silent muttering around the library now curiously deafening.

Till lets himself guide his hand towards his ear, and there he feels the surface of a solid object tucked with his hair. He follows its figure and it does not take long for him to figure out it was a flower, one that he knows all too well by now.

He sucks in a breath as he pulls his gaze back towards a waiting Ivan, with that stupid, idiot, ridiculous, giddy smile of his as he holds out a bouquet of big, bright anakt flowers with a white and grey wrapper with intricate spirals and dots of leaves and flowers on them.

"W..what..." Till internally swears at the stutter of his voice, but it falls second and behind his thumping heart when Ivan grins, with that glee in his eyes that seemed to brighten the black spiral of it, and all it reflects is the flustered, crazy look Till has. He covers his face, drops it onto his empty hand, but a laughing Ivan pulls it away with a soft grasp on his chin.

"You're so cute, Till." Ivan is reeling with happiness, the crescents his eyes make would have probably risen towards the roofs if it were ever possible. "I'd like to take you right here, right now if you weren't so busy." He tilted his head with an innocent cheer around his voice.

"W-W-What the fuck...!" Till seethes, letting go of his mechanical pencil to slam both of his palms on top of Ivan's mouth. "Don't fucking s-say that out loud, you prick!!" He whisper-yells, quickly looking left and right to see if no one had heard or was currently watching them.

"Boo..." Till feels Ivan's pout on his hand. Then, a kiss on his left, followed by a lick.

"Urk..!" With a disgusted twist on his face, Till pulls them away, but his right is quickly snatched by Ivan, and he puts it close to his jaw, shamelessly nuzzling it like a cat. "You're so fucking weird..."

Ivan hums, eyes closed. "You love me." He then opens them, bores his stare on Till's whole figure, and kisses his quickening pulse while keeping its twinkling state steady.

Till clicks his tongue, looking away with a glare. "I question why every day."

Ivan pouts. "No, you don't. It's our anniversary, you can't push me away."

Till flinches at the reminder, even if he had already known the moment he touched the flower that is still on his ear, and he ignores the feeling of his face erupting into flames once again. "Who the hell decided that."

"Me." Ivan dramatically bats his eyelashes, making doe eyes that disgusts Till even further he has the urge to kiss the other until he never speaks ever again.

And so he does, and is welcomed by the satisfied hum of Ivan in between it, like a dog finally getting its treat after so many tricks. An imaginative mind is all it takes to see the bastard's tail thumping and shaking left and right behind him.

On the back of his mind, Till reminds himself that they are still in a public place, even if he specifically chose a spot that is on a secluded part of the library, but the smell of flowers beside him, the chuckle that Ivan releases when Till's grip on his sleeve tightens as he pushes his lips towards the latter even further, the easy glide of Ivan interlocking their hands together—it all stops any coherent thought in Till's mind.

He stays there, even as Ivan insufferably lays his whole upper body on Till's lap with arms flapping and his legs awkwardly bending to fit his tall figure on the window sill, making Till pull on his sketchbook and mechanical pencil with a yell, then immediately smacking it right dab on Ivan's face.

He does not let go of Ivan's hand even when the latter's eyes go wide with fake, glistening tears as he profusely pouted at how Till was so mean to him, and continues to hold onto it with Ivan dozing off on his shoulder, now sketching the bouquet that sits on his empty side as the school bell from outside the library signals the start of noon.

Till glances at the flowers, can mutely smell its familiar aroma, and when he steals another one towards Ivan's sleeping figure that is muttering incoherent syllables, Till lets his lips break into a small but indulgent smile before he glides his mechanical pen on the surface of his sketchbook once more.

if you'd like to continue to support this fic, it is on ao3 as well!

[mobius-m-mobius]

OWEN WILSON behind the scenes of LOKI season 2

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

Okay so I've recently been dealing with the fact that at some point I will take after my mother and lose most if not all of my hearing. HOWEVER distracting myself has led to many pleasant thoughts of deaf mages to make me feel better about it. Like imagine how many different ways there are to lose your hearing in some capacity from various types of magic. And how would they primarily deal with it? Winterhold must have a mandatory sign language class because there's definitely at least one deaf student at any given moment at the college. But also ooooh if there was a deaf professor who would it be?????? I can totally see Faralda having a significant level of destruction magic-based hearing loss?? Like a lifetime of fireballs whizzing past her face can't be good for her right

I DO THINK ABOUT THIS SOMETIMES... disability that coexists with magic is very near and dear to my heart! given the dangerous nature of messing with more explosive spells I imagine there's a fair bit of magical PPE that's required before casting in a classroom environment (there's a reason Tolfdir teaches you to ward first, after all) - you don't want anyone accidentally putting out an eye or anything!

you get less time to prepare all that however in an actual emergency setting, such as something blowing up unexpectedly or an opposing ship blasting at you... I could definitely see Faralda having a side she favors more than the other 🤔 Arniel isn't a professor but is almost certainly also prone to pretty bad tinnitus + at least a little hard of hearing as a result!

as far as what's done about it, I think you're spot-on about the necessity of a common sign language; in a place where you're getting people from many different backgrounds where there's already going to be multiple languages spoken, I'd love to see a kind of pidgin sign language develop too, possibly that can be easily understandable even with a single hand to keep one free for spellcasting. however this DOES make monitoring written exams somewhat more difficult as that also means, hypothetically, you could keep writing your answers while also (silently!) checking in with your friend in a way that wouldn't set off any anti-magic-cheating measures in place. oops

[lurakha]

finished kcd <3