lucanis-crow

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you're a thousand times mine.

and I am a thousand yours.

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meeee

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This picture is making me nauseous .

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Neve "Slick" Gallus

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Illario is the funniest villain Dragon Age has ever shown us "Oh yes Teia I have the ashes for my totally dead grandmother, I'll go get them because they are in my possession. My dead grandma's ashes of course" my dude you're a crow you could've burned any body you had on hand. I want to study you in a lab

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Local time says it's Friday

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i might actually be going somewhere with this

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trying to cook up something

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Spite is hilarious

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Absolutely losing my mind over this text I got from a client today

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soooooooo true buddy

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Joseph x f!Deputy!Reader drabble

i am cooking again lads, please enjoy

Warning: far cry 5 standard warnings

:)

When she woke up again, the ground had stopped shaking. There was this strange calm spreading across the world, as if the world had gone to sleep. They said, they didn’t know which weapons would be used in the 3rd world war, but the 4th one would be fought with sticks.

The radio stations had gone quiet, the TV only showed static. Who was left out there? How many were left out there? What even was left outside?

The only noise was the ringing in her ears, the noises of the electric devices scattered around the bunker, and humming. Joseph was somewhere out there, alive, doing whatever a cult leader was doing inside of a bunker during the apocalypse.

Sleep was a welcomed friend for her.

While she was asleep, Joseph cut her free and placed her in the bed next to her spot. The constant sleeping was a sign of a concussion. Joseph had sustained injuries too, but nothing to the head. His cuts and bruises healed over quickly. Her concussion took longer to heal. She was awake only a few hours a day, and whenever she was, she wasn’t…quite here. Whenever Joseph tried to speak to her, it felt as if she was in a cloud of cotton. Not really present, but not too far away. His voice was muffled by the voices inside of her own head.

Two weeks in, she finally spoke to him in a normal voice.

“Can we make some goulash? I’m craving it.”

Dutch had prepared loads of canned food for the end of the world. No one had prepared Dutch for the end of the world. For now, Joseph refused to open the freezer. 

Joseph cooked them a can of goulash. To stretch the meal, he added pasta with it, in hopes that they’d feel fuller for longer. It was a good meal. It reminded her of home. A home so far away. She knew she’d never see it again, and the tears were shed in private.

It took them a long time to warm up to each other. She killed his family. He killed hers. That made them even. But admitting these things was a hard thing to do. Admitting weaknesses was not for the weak. It takes a strong willed individual to admit that they have flaws, weaknesses, and make mistakes. It takes an even stronger willed individual to look into someone’s face and admit to murdering their family.

What broke the ice was a fever.

They couldn’t really tell what day or month it was, but the tiny airflow by the bunker entrance was ice cold, showing that winter had started. Nothing was sealed tightly. Joseph had insisted on staying shirtless, while she had found a bit of joy in wearing different clothes after waking up from yet another slumber.

Joseph managed to catch a brutal cold, his whole body was trembling as another chill ran down his spine. There was a ton of medication in the bunker, but Joseph insisted on riding it out the old way, with cool compresses and tons of fluid. She wasn’t a fan of this, calling him a pigheaded fellow, because if he were to die of the fever, she’d have to deal with his rotten body. But on the 3rd day of constant fever, he gave in and let her give him ibuprofen. The relief was nearly instant, and Joseph did not die.

She made him warm meals, helped him change out of his clothes when he managed to sweat through the fabric. And what helped him the most? Her just sitting with him. His sore throat was the first part to heal completely, and in a slightly feverish nonsense, he started to talk.

How everyone had failed them in their lives. How he had hoped that the Project would be a place of comfort and help for other failures like them. But this time around, Joseph could have been the one to hold the knife to someone’s neck. After all, he was in control, and could put it away whenever he wanted to. He acknowledged that he let some things get out of hand. The brainwashing wasn’t necessary, but Jacob had insisted on it, threatening violence if he had not gotten his way. Torture wasn’t on his to do list either, but John had insisted on it, threatening to stop the cash flow to Eden’s Gate.

Give them a finger, and they’ll reach for the whole arm.

But Joseph had let himself get out of control as well. The enablers around him, the yes-sayers if you dare, got the best of him. They clouded his vision and made him forget what was important. Saving the failures. And in the end, the only failure he could save was himself. He hadn’t noticed the silent tears running down her face.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was meant to be.”

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Welp Some of you wanted more of it, so here it is Another beardless Lucanis compilation

but that's the last one from me

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I'm so sorry (am I really tho?) I really wanted to try this mod in different cutscenes 😅

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"it's Harding vs Assan" "Lucanis is a very passionate man" welcome back bioware racism! thank you for completely erasing our black companion and reducing our Spanish/Italian companion to the passionate lover stereotype!

I was going to put this rant in the tags but I'm doing it here below the cut.

you say Assan is as important as Harding??? you're implying that ASSAN is more important than DAVRIN, the grey warden warrior monster hunter with a beautiful character arc about learning to grow beyond what you believe is your sole purpose and discovering a new side of himself through selflessly loving a young creature that depends on him and loves him back unconditionally? ASSAN is more important than the overall beautiful and nuanced man Davrin is? Davrin, a whole person??? an entire companion? an actual romance option? I don't recall choosing between Harding and Assan on tearstone island. I did not tell Assan to lead the second team. from the bottom of my heart, john epler, get fucked.

and don't get me started on Lucanis. he pursues Neve because he's PASSIONATE? putting aside whether you saved Minrathous or Treviso for a moment, are you saying Neve is not equally interested in him? Is she not also allowed to be passionate and find him attractive? Nooooo, it's all him, because we wrote Neve to be the defrosting ice queen trope! see? she uses ice magic. you can even still fuck her if you don't save her city, because we wanted her to be fuckable By Men! that's why we reminded you how fuckable she is By Men by putting her with our Spicy Passionate Hispanic Man! that's why we hid a tweet about how popular she is with wlw!

and if you DO save Minrathous, Lucanis tells you he has no heart for anything but Treviso anymore. their obnoxious tooltip says Lucanis doesn't have time to pursue a romance with you. Lucanis was trapped in an underwater torture prison for a year and all he wanted to do was go home, and then it's blighted so he can't even have that and it's your fault. I don't care that he romances Neve afterwards - do whatever you want, king, if Neve was into me I would be running to her room too. Maybe they're bonding over their hometowns idk. but to say this is him being a PASSIONATE PERSON? Lucanis, the emotionally repressed Antivan Crow nepo baby whose love languages are feeding people and looking at them with big wet puppy eyes? yeah, sure. he had enough passion for Neve. let's just remove everything else that may have drawn them together for the sake of the stereotype and the het romance we had to force into our game. we're bioware, after all - we have to meet our racism and misogyny quota.

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Mary Kirby clarifying she wrote lucanis as “pansexual and demisexual” after that mess of an AMA… shes real as fuck for that