#and i don't mind umbra

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

So are we going to make Haze a freak or not because I want her to collect bones from suspicious origin and wear them as jewlery.

Also I want her to know a lot about watch/clockmaking. I want her to have a collection of watches she either made, fixed or customized. Some of them have too many hands and seem to show anything but the time, but whatever logic there is behind it, Haze understands it and checks them regularly. Some are intricate and beautiful, with details painstakingly arranged so the watch becomes a literal work of art.

I want her to be a ghoulette summoned around Secondo's time, who was initially just there to take care of the many ancient clocks around the Ministry.

Idk I have many thoughts about my girl.

[kaiserouo]

she knows what her skills are for

[midnight-bay-if]

How would the Ro’s react if they accidentally hurt Mc physically or emotionally in like a heated argument, and how would they react after this all blows over? (wait till Mc approach them or goes to them)

This wasn't necessarily specific to whether the ROs were dating the MC. Since the answer would be universally 'they are devastated' if that were the case, it might be more interesting to answer this at the crushing stage.

S: S isn't used to getting heated at all. Even if they're angry at something their team members have done (usually Taj), it usually only takes one stare from them to end the argument completely. But one clumsy comment later, and that was it. A full-blown argument. They've never seen the MC like that before. It was difficult to watch. Even more difficult to partake in. They've been pacing the same square foot of floor since the whole thing blew up. It's really not like them to lose their composure, and now that they have, all they want to do is take it back.

Eventually, S will bring MC their preferred drink, take a deep breath and offer an apology. They aren't the type to leave things uncomfortable.

Rain: This is a difficult one to imagine in the first place. Rain is always careful with their words, but sometimes, culturally human things can be a bit of a shock. So, I can see them accidentally blundering into dangerous territory with the MC. But as soon as the MC got upset, they would instantly apologise. In their efforts to fix it, if MC isn't ready to hear it, it could blow up worse. If that happened, Rain would be truly devastated. The self-loathing would start to sneak in as they lay curled up in a ball. Taj would get pretty defensive on Rain's behalf if that happened.

At that point, S would need to coach them to calm down, explain the mistake, and offer suggestions for getting through it.

Taj: Taj is going to give as good as they get. If you start snapping at them, they're going to snap back. It's instinctual, even if they're the reason you're blowing up at them. It would take S breaking up the fight for them to finally storm off to somewhere high up, quiet, and isolating. Once their blood has calmed, they will finally reflect on the argument with a heavy heart.

If it was their fault, they might find you later when you're alone. They won't apologise exactly, but they might offer to buy your favourite snack as a pick-me-up. However, if they feel you're at fault, you will have to approach them first.

N: Amid the fight, N will just be amused. 'Oh, how adorable. They're all worked up,' they'll think as they continue goading you. Since they're stuck with you anyway, they might as well get some entertainment out of you. Except, later on, when you refuse to talk to them, refuse to look at them, and Umbra has been giving them the most murderous glare all day, they might finally approach you with an apology.

It's only because they don't want to be murdered, though... right?

Umbra: The way this would almost kill Umbra. Umbra would never purposefully hurt MC, but that doesn't mean they won't accidentally. So, when MC looks at them with the most grief-stricken stare they have ever seen, Umbra runs away to hide. How could they do that? They made a vow. They should have known better. Something as monstrous as they are could never be anything but wicked.

Umbra would be too ashamed to approach the MC first.

[gwaha]

oc kiss week day 6 !! with @impossible-rat-babies' eyrie + my umbra !!

just a little bit of platonic comfort from one old viera to another :-) 🖤

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Kind of sucks that I hate Bayo 2 Balder so much because the elemental magic combined with a twinblade that splits into two swords for combos is cool as shit and really up my alley.

Since Bayo 3 went the way of Bayonetta doing more "magic" stuff I kind of wish she got to have weapons that worked in such stylish manner. Maybe more of the weapons could have fast "punches" and slower heavier "kicks" instead of slow weapons just being kind of slow and fast weapons just being fast.

[marionmaverick]

I'll be honest I was expecting the ff16 quest to be harder and have more action in it but the 15 quest definitely delivered both more battles and more challenge

[sevastiel]

Mmm.... Thinking thoughts about the Stalker, Hunhow, and how they helped the Drifter during the New War. Umbra isn't the only excal based sentient warframe, after all, and although the partnership was begrudging, the Drifter does have that sentient piece of bow, which I'd imagine he probably tried to give back at some point.

I don't know if Hunhow still has a link to that thing, but the thoughts are deeeefinitely there.

Most of the weapons that we use in warframe are pretty like, 'realistic' in terms of being able to sorta say, oh, this is battery powered, oh, this one is biological, etc, but I think of everything the Drifter could show the Hex to prove the authenticity of his stories, (Past Eleanor being able to just read minds lmfao) that might actually be it. Also, its just genuinely cool as a prop piece. Also also it fits GS Drifter's rhythmic theming perfectly.

"Nice sniper rifle. Check this out." *punches a hole through brick wall with a bow that growls and manifests arrows out of absolutely nothing*

[myownwholewildworld]

veni, vidi, victus sum (a "per aspera ad astra" drabble)

main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: marcus acacius x emperor's daughter!reader. summary: marcus returns from war with the worst news possible. a/n: considering that i started this story here by posting the end first... may i interest you in how it all started? c: i appreciate comments and reblogs, they make me happy knowing that people enjoy my writing <3 take care x warnings: 18+, mdni. pure angst because i don't know any better. death of a secondary character. w/c: 2.3k

July, 106 AD

Marcus’ right hand shook uncontrollably. So much so, he had to wrap his left around the opposite wrist and squeeze as hard as he could, hoping to stop the tremor that suddenly took hold of his muscles and soul.

He hadn't even had time to wash off the mud and sweat. Nor to process everything that had happened in the last few days. Once his mission was done and dusted, only then and in the privacy of his own company, would he give himself permission to break down. He would be a terrible General if he let himself be dominated by emotion at such important moment for the Empire.

Returning from Dacia after an intense campaign, Marcus had been at the head of the Roman column that would carry out the offensive towards the east of the Dacian capital, Sarmizegetusa, while General Atticus, his inseparable friend to whom he would have blindly entrusted his life, and son-in-law to Emperor Traianus, led the battle towards the center of the town.

That week the Empire had annexed a new region that would bring great wealth. But Marcus, personally, had lost much more than what he truly had gained. Lady Justice had spoken, letting the balance tip completely in favour of collective Roman rule and not his personal one.

Marcus walked between the marble columns of a secluded hallway in the Domus Flavia, the public area of ​​the Imperial Palace on Palatine Hill, as if he was an umbra. He put one foot in front of the other automatically, his mind on a land more than six hundred Roman miles away.

The siege of the Dacian capital to the east had been especially bloody. The enemy had presented a good strategy; the thread of many souls being skewed by the Parcae on both fronts. Among them, that of his own son, Augustus. At eighteen years old, he had been a great military promise, the best candidate to one day replace his father.

If Marcus closed his eyes, he could still remember Augustus’ warm, battered body in his arms. His empty orbs, observing the infinite, reflected the horror of his last seconds in this world. A thick and rudimentary pilum protruding from his chest was a macabre picture Marcus would have trouble forgetting. Its tip so sharp, it had pierced through the segmented lorica with ease, embedding itself in his heart, blood still gushing out.

By the time Marcus’ knees hit the ground by Augustus’ side, Pluto had already claimed his son to join His ranks. The bloodshed had continued to unfold around him, a maddening dance of swords, as if the world had not just stopped —as if Marcus had not just lost the only reason that kept him standing.

His reality had just sunk into the blackest misery and the rest of humanity was there, present yet impassive, blind to his pain.

But there had been no time to grieve — not there, during the darkest hour.

An enemy sword hovered over him, and he had to react.

When the battle died down and his soldiers celebrated the victory, Marcus dragged the corpse of his only son to the edge of some oleanders, where he managed to dig a hole with the help of his gladius and his own fingers.

Time was of the essence, which prevented him from laying Augustus to rest following the rituals of the Roman religion. He could only place a bronze coin over Augustus' mouth as payment to Charon, the ferryman of the Underworld, before throwing dirt on him. He then had composed himself as best he could, letting the General's façade fall on his face, and headed east, unaware that his friend Atticus had suffered a similar end.

On one day alone, he had lost two of the most important people in his life.

His mind returned to the present. From his right hand hung the decapitated head of Decebalus, already so decomposed that there was no blood left inside. The coward had tried to escape to Ranisstorum and, in his last desperate moments, committed suicide when Marcus and another officer, Tiberius Maximus, were hunting him down.

Finding his enemy defeated by his own demons was an anticlimactic moment, given the events of the previous days. Tiberius circumambulated towards Sarmizegetusa again, while Marcus and his legion, along with Atticus’, returned to Rome.

He was defeated, physically and mentally. Marcus just wanted to finish that damned mission and return to his villa. An empty one, devoid of a family he once revered.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself in the throne room, with Emperor Traianus staring at him, a sardonic smile painting his lips. After placing the head of Decebalus at the feet of the Emperor, he gave his last report of war. When the time came to deliver the news that his son-in-law, General Atticus, had perished in battle, the smile faded from Traianus’ face. That would be a hard blow to recover from.

Marcus explained the details that had been entrusted to him, omitting the death of his firstborn and ending with the fact that Atticus’ legion was carrying his corpse through the streets of Rome at that very moment, heading to the basilica of the Domus Flavia to begin with the funeral rites.

At least one of the two would have proper burial.

He said goodbye with deferential courtesy and shuffled out of there. He still had one last assignment: to inform the wife of General Atticus and daughter of the Emperor, you.

With heavy feet, Marcus ambled towards the most private wing of the Palace, the Domus Augustana. One of the maids guided him through the unfamiliar corridors, leaving him in front of a basin raised on a half column. Marcus took the hint, realising that there was still dirt—and specks of dried blood—embedded in his face. He did as he was asked, drying his skin with a linen cloth, before resuming his pace.

Finally, they stopped in front of double doors, and the maid knocked.

A minute later, they swung open.

Steeling himself for what was to come, Marcus bowed his aching back, keeping his eyes on the expensive stone that lined the floor.

“Domina mea (my lady),” he greeted you with deference.

Keeping busy while worry stalked the back of your mind was a colossal task. One you should have been used to by now, but it was nonetheless nerve-wracking.

Having to wait around until you heard news from your husband was not how you wanted to spend your days, but for love you had to. For Rome, you had to. Your husband, Resius Atticus, was your father’s most trusted ally, which meant he was kept away from you for long nights.

You flicked through the pages of the shabby parchment, its ink slowly fading with the passage of time. Finding yourself reading the same paragraph again, you decided to put it aside. You curled up on the chaise lounge, hugging your knees as the sun filtered through the slit window — a ray of sunshine kissing your skin, leaving a warm trail.

Closing your eyes, you revelled in the rare moment of quiet, of peace, a smile lingering on the corners of your mouth.

A knock on the door swept the instant away, and then your heart fluttered uncontrollably.

Today was the day when Resius was meant to return. To his duties in the court, but also to you. You looked forward to settling back into a routine with him, lazy afternoons spent by the private gardens, talking sweet nothings to each other. Despite the years spent by his side, you didn’t tire of him, of your unbreakable relationship.

So, when you swung the double doors open with a pearly smile tugging at your lips, you did not expect to see your husband’s best friend instead.

Your heart suddenly stopped in your chest, swelling to an uncomfortable point. It stretched, a crawling feeling tearing your skin apart from the inside out.

Widened eyes, they locked on his, searching for answers and finding none. Marcus wore an impassible expression, but the way he averted his glassy eyes told you everything you needed to know.

This could only mean one thing. Your worst nightmare taking form, escaping from your dreams and filtering into reality.

Still shocked, you saw the server scurrying away, leaving you alone with the General — but not your General.

“May I come in, Augusta (Imperial Princess)?” his soft voice broke through your blocked eardrums.

Jarred, you nodded, stepping aside to let Acacius in.

You stood there, numb and confounded, your brain trying to find another reason for General Acacius’ visit.

“Please, let us sit down,” Acacius spoke gently, a firm hand on the small of your back guiding you towards the chaise lounge.

This truly felt like a dream, ethereal and foggy, something your vivid imagination had come up with during an unrequited afternoon nap. That had to be it, because this could not be it. You still had a thousand lives to live besides Resius — you had prayed to the Gods for his safe return and they never failed you.

Under Acacius’ direction, you sat down, the pillow underneath giving way to the weight of both of you.

“Domina mea, I regret to be the bearer of bad news. General Atticus perished at the mercy of a Dacian sword, defending two of his fallen soldiers from certain death,” his words shook your system, the numbness taking hold of all your being.

Silence lingered, and you both sat there with eyes fixed on nothing.

This just wasn’t real, couldn’t be. You refused to register such cruel information, shaking your head to unhear what had been spoken aloud.

“No, you have to be wrong, Acacius. I am sure you are,” you finally replied, eyes looking for his tired orbs. A hand flew to one of his resting on his knee, squeezing it tight. “You are wrong. This must be some twisted joke.”

Acacius’ sight did not lie though. You could see the pain emanating from his eyes, the utter bareness they exuded. With pursed lips, he just stared at you, his free hand hovering over yours on his knee until he stroked it warmly.

“I am truly sorry, Domina mea. I… I wish I was lying,” his voice faltered momentarily. “I lament not having been by his side. Had I been, I would have gladly traded my life for his. I would have…”

Acacius did not finish the sentence, because the wail that tore through your throat interrupted him. A fresh wound split your chest in half, all emotions pouring out in a sudden burst. Tears welled up, blurring your vision, and you clutched at your chest, your lungs shrinking with your heart. A burning sensation filled you and then deserted you, leaving you empty, cold — broken.

Losing Resius was a death sentence to your heart, to your soul. To all you were and would be. Life would not—could not—be the same if he was no longer brightening it for you. Hope was no longer your companion, the easy happiness that usually shimmered within you all gone with the blow of a few simple words.

Something crawled inside you, twisting and twitching and breaking and consuming. Something dark, something sad, something shattered. Grief suffocated your heart. This was not pain, this was torment. Living hell.

The raw intensity of it all clouded your mind. Your fractured soul looking for a chink of solace, wanting to cling onto a sliver of hope. Before thinking, you let go of the dam of your emotions, sobs flooding your mouth, as you turned around and hugged Acacius.

Little did it matter the blood and dirt on his worn armour, you needed the comfort of a friendly shoulder. Acacius would understand your pain, the suffering that crushed your soul, because he had also lost his best friend. The two of them had been inseparable for decades — you both had lost someone important that day. He would understand. You knew he did.

Threading your arms around his shoulders, you cried your sorrow in the crook of his neck, kind palms rubbing your back, commending your pain to leave your body. So, you wept until your eyes were bloodshot, until they itched and dried like a river during the worst drought of the century. Trickles of tears stained your cheeks, lashes clumping together under the heaviness of tearful dew.

Time was lost to the dragging pain, and only when Acacius’ hands stroked your shoulders, did you venture a look in his direction, leaning back. The naked expression on his face told you how much agony he carried. The soreness his eyes distilled was on par with yours.

“I am sorry for your loss too,” you offered your condolences. After all, he had lost his best friend. “I trust that your son Augustus found his way back home safe.”

Before their departure, Acacius and his son had paid you both a visit, a meal shared at night between old friends’ jests and company. You remembered Augustus’ enthusiasm to make his father proud on their first campaign together. How Acacius had looked at his heir with adulation and pride — the apple of his eyes. Acacius’ wife had died during childbirth, which had only reinforced the close relationship between father and son.

A feeble smile loitered on his mouth, a brief nod putting your mind at ease. Neither of you needed more suffering tonight.

“He is resting now,” was his succinct reply.

But Acacius always was, so his reassurance soothed your soul a little.

At least Acacius and his son had made it out alive.

[snowyhyena]

My two dadframes

Drawing warframes is hell even as a sketch holy shit. But I really wanna draw my little grimblos atleast once. (Don't mind the missing umbra armor)

Yes they kiss and cuddle sometimes

I made the mug as a silly thing but now it has lore out of nowhere. Papa White Rhino got the mug for him with the contributions and pleads of all the babyframes they look over :3

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Thinking on the first shower Noctis took, post-crystal.

He wakes up, and he has to know on some level that quite some time has passed, even before he reaches Galdin Quay. The scratch of facial hair on his chin, the way his hair is longer and tickles his chin now when it shouldn't have, the accumulated grime - dust and dirt and traces of black soot and gray ash on his fatigues - on his skin and clothes from the struggle in Zegnatus Keep and then a decade in stasis.

I'm not sure if the crystal just up and deposited him on Angelgard, because while Noctis was sucked into it in his entirety - we don't know of the divide between his soul/mind, and his actual body, and there's something so grim in thinking about Noctis himself was in the crystal, absorbing centuries of power, while his body is left in Angelgard.

That also, to me, makes more sense as to why Gentiana and Umbra would be there, guarding him, and later - a la Comrades expansion - the surviving Glaives.

Noctis himself wasn't there, but his body was.

Imagine the feel of that. Ten years worth of grime, or nearly.

I say nearly, and maybe it's just my bleeding heart for how Gentiana does care about Luna, and in turn how Luna cares for Noctis, but there's something very tender and bittersweet in the thought of Gentiana - the messenger and Astral in one - trying her best to keep Noctis healthy during that long decade, like sponge bathing to keep the worst off him.

If anyone had direct access to Noct, it would be her.

It wouldn't be the same as a proper bath, or real exercise, but it would be something - keeping of muscular atrophy and maintaining his hygiene as much as possible (as well as whatever crystal fuckery is going on besides Bahamut's revelation, because the amount of issues Noct should have woken up with makes no small list).

Noctis wakes up, and he walks the trail Umbra paves for him, to the shores of Angelgard - and the royal vessel is waiting there for him. Aged, probably worn, but there to bring him back to the mainland. Back to Lucis.

We never see the interior of the Royal Vessel, but there's probably bedrooms - and probably a bathroom. Considering Noctis would probably be more focused on driving the yacht itself, rather than stopping, it'd be unlikely for him to enter the bathroom - but the thought of him looking into a mirror, and looking at himself, so changed from what he remembers being...

It carves the strongest feeling of loss, down to the roots of my heart in my chest because - Noctis is grown. He's fully grown, a man, and yet - not. Ten years were stolen from him, and he wouldn't even know yet. Not until running into Talcott.

There's so much of his father in his face, but his father is dead. His father never got the chance to see Noctis grown up in life, never would have gotten the chance with the strain of the wall and the magic of their bloodline sucking his life away.

His father, who at the end of it all, would be forced to deliver the final blow which severed Noctis from his body once more.

Permanently.

I think it might be even worse, though. For Noctis to first see himself in the mirrors of Talcott's van. In glimpses, but never as a whole, because it's so damn dark and the sun hasn't risen - hasn't pierced the clouds of miasma - for near ten years.

If there was anywhere he'd be able to see his face, it would be at Hammerhead. Hammerhead, where his retinue was waiting - Prompto, and Gladio, and Ignis (who would, just like Regis, be unable to bear witness to Noctis growth).

They're all different, too. Gladio, with longer hair and more scars to count. Prompto, with a goatee a tad longer than Noct's stubble and facing down Daemons with more practice and experience. Iggy, who can't see, but learned to cook and fight again, with more lines on his face and scars on his hands from where others had helped guide weaponry or cookery away from himself before he had adjusted -

Then, Iggy being the exception (except for the visions in Altissia), they are the first people to see his face, besides Umbra, besides Gentiana, Talcott, the Glaives...

There's the feel of water dousing his hair, rolling down his spine and over his body, and it's not hot or cold - but lukewarm. People in and out of Hammerhead now, the power that goes into heating water needed elsewhere. The scent of bland soap, without any real fragrance. Clear water running dark down a drain as he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs - and he gets out, and he gets dressed in attire fit of a king.

A warrior, heading to war. A man, mortal and yet to become not, preparing to make a declaration to the heavens themselves not in words, but his own spilled blood staining the throne once built off of it.

Just. Noctis waking up after the crystal.

Feelings.

[kivaember]

nghhgh another short oneshot for 1999 umbra fic where it's aoi trying to do girl gossip with drifter but they forgot they're talking to drifter of all people

-

"So. Space ship."

Drifter did not look up from where they were diligently oiling their sword as they repeated: "Space ship."

Aoi pursed her lips when nothing else was forthcoming. "Sooooo...? What was it like?"

Drifter finally looked up. They seemed amused yet puzzled. "What? Living on a space ship?"

"Yeah!"

"...like living here, I guess?" Drifter leaned back on the sofa (a coffee-stained veteran of what seemed like several plague wars that they had dragged into what had been a staff room), and rested their sword across their lap. "It's not all that different to planet-side, really."

"It has to be. What about, y'know, night and day? Or- ohh, water? It must be like living on a ship, right? Uh, I mean, a sea ship. Lots of recycling and rationing?"

"I don't really know all the logistical stuff like that..." Drifter admitted. They looked sheepish. "But they enforced a night and day cycle that we all stuck to. Humans are at their healthiest when adhering to a set circadian rhythm after all."

"Oh, that makes sense," Aoi muttered, a bit put out by such a reasonable yet dull answer. "All the lights must've had UV in it."

"Something like that." Drifter smiled. "You guys are always so fascinated about the space stuff."

"Well, duh, we haven't left our planet yet. Of course it's fascinating!" Aoi flicked a bit of lint at them. "The only frame of reference we have are movies, but you've actually lived it."

"Mn, well, reality is a lot more boring, I'm afraid," Drifter said. "Once you seen one asteroid belt, you've seen them all. Space is just a whole bunch of empty and rocks, and sometimes icy or flaming rocks. Not much else."

"Boo. Stop puncturing my childish wonder."

"Ha..." Drifter rubbed the back of their neck. "Sorry."

A companionable silence lapsed where Drifter returned to maintaining their sword, while Aoi's mind idled over the thought of living on a space ship. Not much different to planet-side, huh? Just one thing...

"Hey, tell me if this is a bit of a weird question or what, but..." Aoi paused, trying to think on how to word it. "...you said the Zariman was a colony ship, right?"

"Yeah. We were to colonise Tau and get it all prepped for the Orokin to arrive after us."

"Right, right. So..." Aoi wobbled her hand in a vague gesture. "So, y'know, there were probably only so many people on the ship, right? And, there weren't going to be any others following you. Just you guys, yeah?"

"Yeah..." Drifter said slowly. They clearly had no idea where Aoi was going with this. "It was meant to be just us. Why?"

"I was just thinking, uh, colonising would take a long time. And I guess connecting Tau with here would take a long time too, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So..." Aoi dawdled, then decided to just say it outright. "You were kinda stuck with the dating scene you were given, huh?"

Drifter blinked very slowly.

"......wait, do you mean our breeding program?" they finally asked. "They already paired people up before Zariman left port, so they kinda had that all figured out about three generations ahead, I think."

Aoi mouthed 'breeding program' to herself, feeling all kinds of disturbed and revulsed at the thought of applying that to actual living human beings. Urgh. Made them sound like livestock or pedigree dogs or something.

"Er, well, I mean, not breeding exactly. I meant, y'know, dating," Aoi emphasised. "As in, hooking up with someone you like? If there's only so many of you, then, you're kinda stuck if no one really catches your interest-"

She paused when what Drifter actually said finally processed.

"Wait. You said, 'they already paired people up'...?"

"Yeah. To avoid inbreeding and to ensure maximan genetic diversity with our limited population," Drifter said very matter-of-factedly. "I already knew who my studs were gonna be once I was old enough, but you didn't really have to be all like, married with them, so the concept didn't bother me that much."

Aoi opened her mouth. Closed it.

"...studs," she finally said, without any kind of emotion.

"Oh, is that an unfamiliar term? It means a breeding male who-"

"I know what stud means," Aoi said, her voice mildly strained. "It's just, uh... you're very, um, candid about it?"

"Well, it ended up not happening, y'know? So why be all, like, retroactively weirded out by it?" Drifter said with a shrug. "And at the time... ugh, I dunno how to explain it. You don't understand how, uh, indoctrinated everyone was when it came to the Orokin. If they told you to jump off a bridge, you just did it without thought. 'Our Golden Masters know best', and all that. So them telling you who you're gonna have kids with to populate Tau? Not out of the ordinary, really."

Aoi mentally chewed over that for a moment. She finally settled on: this is yet another disturbing facet of Drifter's very fucked up past and she did not have the mental energy to fully process all... that right now.

Where did she even start. Good lord.

So, she shifted topics slightly.

"Okay, fair enough. But, hopping back a few verbal steps," Aoi said blithely. "You said you weren't gonna be married so you could still date, yeah?"

"So long as you didn't have any unsanctioned kids with them, you could do whatever you wanted, really." Drifter scratched their jaw thoughtfully. "I think? I was still a kid when the Zariman turned into a shitshow but... I remember some of the adults all kinda crawling over each other like a box of horny pobblers, and it seemed to be okay for them to do that? Maybe."

Aoi groaned and flopped back in her seat.

"...are you trying to angle for something in specific or...?" Drifter finally asked.

"Yes!" Aoi threw up her hands. "I was trying to be all subtle to ask you what your type is, but then you had to talk about weird breeding programs and shit."

"Uh, sorry."

"It's not your fault," Aoi sighed. It really wasn't, so she couldn't even be mad at them. "I'm just learning I should be direct when I want to ask you something. I'll keep stepping on disturbing landmines, otherwise."

Drifter ducked their head slightly.

"So, okay," Aoi said bracingly. "I'll just ask: hey, Drifter, what's your type?"

"To date?"

"No, to play Komi with- yes, to date!"

"Um, I've...never really thought about it," Drifter admitted. They stared at the sword across their lap, their brow slightly furrowed as they deeply pondered the difficult question of: what was the type of person they'd be willing to date?

Aoi had just been idly curious before, but now she was desperate to hear like, the lowest possible bar of 'they are nice' or something. Drifter was right, they had been a kid when all of this was going down, so who knew what kind of weird and fucked up lessons they internalised about human relationships, both romantic and sexual????? Did Drifter even get given a proper birds and the bees talk or was it all coached in terms like "breeding" and "genetic diversity" or Lua knows what else?????? Did Aoi need to go and get Lettie???? Sex ed with the future Void magic trauma bomb????

"I guess my type is... reliable, broad shoulders - you know, in the kind of, muscular but not super big kind of way, just, you know, strong but also good in combat, and, um, I'd also like them to listen to me and care about me, like, you know, do stuff they know I like without me having to ask?" Drifter's voice lilted uncertainly at the end, and they scratched their head with a self-conscious laugh. "But, also, uh, they're not afraid to talk to me about stuff, even if it's heavy... or... ahah, I guess, you know, something like that..."

bitch, you just described UMBRA, Aoi mentally wailed, you told me he's like your DAD before!

"Oh," Aoi said aloud with forced cheer. "That's a lot more detailed than I was expecting! It almost... describes someone!"

"You think?" Drifter tilted their head. "Like who?"

Aoi steepled her fingers and stared at them silently for three long seconds. Drifter... the densest person known to man, and Aoi had dated Arthur for fuck's sake.

"............who knows," she said stoically. "But, maybe you should think on it."

Drifter thought on it.

"Hmmm, I don't think I know anyone who fits that description," they sighed with a sad shake of their head. "Not someone I'd date, anyways."

Aoi sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead.

"I wouldn't know what to do even if I wanted to date them, anyways," Drifter added. "I mean, I kinda missed that development milestone."

"..." Aoi braced herself. Oh boy, here it comes. "Which development milestone."

"The whole dating thing." Drifter waved their hand dismissively. "Y'know, a primer on how to kiss or have sex, or how to flirt and stuff. We hadn't reached the Sex Ed module on the Zariman before everything went to shit, and everyone had doll anatomy in Duviri so... yeah. Y'know."

There's a pause, a lengthy one. Then Aoi slaps her hands against her thighs and stands up with a quiet 'welp'.

"Looks like it's time for Lettie to tag in," Aoi declared to no one in particular. "You stay there. I'll be back."

"Um, okay?"

Aoi walked to Lettie's territory in the mall, and moments later, Lettie could be heard yelling in absolute disbelief: "WHO NEEDS A BIRDS AND THE BEES TALK????"

[w1tchybusiness]

possible spoilers for Warframe: Jade Shadows ahead

i wish people would stop, take a breath, and actually think about jade shadows from an analytical place before they leave their reviews rather than just going "i think it's icky" because like. obviously it isn't perfect, i don't think anyone's arguing that, but it isn't gross or wrong- it's art, it's evocative, and it's going to resonate differently with everyone. i want to pick apart some common criticisms i've seen here from the perspective of someone who's played a lot of warframe and thought about some of the heavier themes present in the quest quite a lot.

It's weird that Jade is pregnant because I'm afraid of it/it's gross/it's fetishistic

Personal feelings of revulsion are not a reason to judge something on an objective level. It's perfectly valid to come out of Jade Shadows feeling weird about it- I do think that's kind of the point. The quest has a content warning before you begin it, because the subject matter is something that is really uncomfortable for a lot of people- that doesn't mean that the game shouldn't be allowed to explore it. Also, even if it was wrong to include something like this as fetish content, this argument would imply the game has already gone to weirder places. Looking at you, Grendel.

It's weird that they make the operator give birth via transference

This argument has a little more ground, but also kind of misunderstands how transference works. Yes, it is a hand-wavy "linking of the minds," but we do see clearly in quests like The Sacrifice that when linking with the more sentient frames like Umbra for the first time, the Operator is not fully controlling the frame. I think Umbra is the most appropriate comparison- when linking with Umbra properly for the first time, you don't immediately control Umbra- it's a more spiritual "linking souls helping him find peace" thing. I'd also say that even in the case the Operator was fully in control, I don't think what happened was remotely equatable to literally giving birth. Like. She breathed for 20 seconds and then dissolved into light and died, then there was a baby there. I don't know if you've ever seen a birth, but that isn't how it works. I feel like after all the shit our Operator has been through, "giving birth" through transference is kind of a drop in the bucket.

It's misogynistic to have Jade die in childbirth

????????

Ok. So let's pick apart the possible reasons that this would be misogynistic. Maybe fridging the woman? But. Not really, because she isn't really gone- the game even acknowledges that she will live on through you and through the motes in Hunhow's message. You can literally craft her and then boom, she's back. She may not have a gigantic speaking role, but no warframe does- hell, even the Stalker barely grunts out single words.

Another one I see a lot is the argument that her sole role in the quest is the whole "her whole personality is motherhood" situation- and that is fair, her role IS that- but that is the point of the quest. They hid this in the teasers because they wanted the reveal to be significant, not to intentionally obfuscate their misogynistic writing- while I certainly do agree that it is all too common for female characters to be pushed aside and relegated purely to motherhood, particularly in fandom spaces but that's an entirely different discussion. I think Warframe handled the motherhood issue well- a person used as a tool of unjust death for years (remember the Jade Light?) giving her own life to finally bring life into the world rather than taking it away- it clearly had purpose and thought behind it, and Warframe has already spent years providing female characters that don't revolve entirely around motherhood- though they aren't pushed into your face and provided immediately without any exploration, so it makes sense that some people on Tumblr would miss them. Warframes don't generally have fully fleshed-out personality- the more sentient frames like Dante and Umbra are an exception. Jade was on the verge of death, it's not shocking that we didn't see much of her personality. I don't doubt that we'll get some codex entries explaining more of her actual personality and story- the quest was just not the place and time.

At the end of the day, Warframe is a game about love, family, and sacrifice. Jade Shadows ticks all 3 of those boxes, probably in the most on-the-nose way we've seen yet. I'd love to make a post soon lauding the things I liked about it, the real narrative depth it presented, the meaning behind and the significance of the discomfort rooted in its themes, and its connections to Warframe's broader themes, but I've seen more negativity than positivity thus far which is... genuinely shocking. When I played it I had nothing but praise. Warframe's writing is usually a bit clunky, so I hadn't noticed anything particularly out of the ordinary, but a lot of people seem genuinely convinced that this expansion was somehow the worst we've ever seen when that is far from being the case. Operation Belly of the Beast has been a ton of fun, and the seeming finite nature of what's left adds a real gravitas to farming for Jade. I'm not shocked the quest itself felt a bit half-baked, I'm surprised they released this at all with 1999 coming up- I'm just happy to get some new content and a new frame whose concept I really enjoy.

[midnight-bay-if]

What would the ROs do if they woke up to find the mc had left the room to sleep like on the couch or something because they didn’t want to wake the ROs up with nightmares?

S: Their eyes flutter open, noticing the hand they rested on your waist now clutches the cold sheets where you once lay. They do not hesitate to search for you but are stricken by what they find. You, curled into a ball on the couch, whimpering in fear from whatever haunts your dreams. It's a familiar picture, and it pains them that you feel obligated to bear it alone when you have been so gracious with their own nightmares.

Without a word, S carefully manoeuvres themselves on the couch so their chest is pressed against your back. They slide one arm under your head while the other cradles your arm, intertwining your fingers in theirs. "Do not isolate yourself needlessly, darling," they whisper, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We are aware of one another's darkness, yet here we remain. Please, do not starve me of my strength."

Rain: Rain is a light sleeper, so the moment the mattress rises from the lack of weight, their eyes flutter open to find you perched on the edge, readying yourself to leave. Before you can move, however, Rain reaches out, laying their hand atop yours, tugging your attention.

"Can't sleep?" They ask with a bleary smile.

"Nightmare," you repeat wearily, "It's okay. Go back to sleep. I'm going to sleep on the couch."

Rain's brow furrows, their lips thinning into a displeased frown. "Please stay. I don't like sleeping alone, you know?" They lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand that they hold. "If you are concerned about your nightmares keeping me awake, you needn't be. When alone, I do not sleep at all. I finally rest when I am beside you. Stay."

Taj: It takes until the morning for Taj to realise you sneaked out of bed in the night. Expecting to gather you in their arms the moment their eyes open, they are disappointed to find your side of the bed long cold. Grousing, they drag themselves out of bed to go hunt for you. They find you already in the kitchen making a pot of coffee, dishevelled hair and dark circles under your eyes.

"Didn't sleep well?" Taj queries, a cold stare you recognise all too well. It's the look of being perceived.

You shrug, trying to play off what you know they have already seen. "Nightmare," you offer, a slither of the truth, "but I didn't want to disturb you, so I tried sleeping on the couch."

Taj snarls, closing the distance and wraps their arms around your waist, resting their chin on your shoulder. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Pretend. I hate it." Their breath hitches. "I didn't even realise you were gone. I hate that, too. Wake me next time."

"You know you hate it when I wake you."

"Not if you're scared. Not if you need me."

N: N stretches their limbs, cursing the crick in their back as equally as the hard lumps in your mattress. They really must convince you to purchase something a little more luxurious. You'll thank them later. Their eyes flutter open, expecting to see you pressed closely to them, your rhythmic breathing lulling them sweetly back to sleep. But you are gone. Instinctively, they want to reach out with their mind to locate you, but they push it back down. Boundaries.

It's still dark, but N has no problem navigating it. The apartment is small, so figuring out where you have gone doesn't take a genius. Moments later, they find you curled into a ball, shivering and whimpering in your sleep. They tut, shaking their heads.

"I really wish you would ask for help, my dear," they whisper to themselves, kneeling until they are level with you. They press a hand to your forehead, allowing some of their warmth to seep into your skin. "Allow me to lay to rest whatever is troubling you inside that noggin' of yours, love, or at least let me stand beside you. Do not hide from me."

Umbra: Usually, Umbra spends their nights curled up at your window or lying beside you, guarding your sleep against those who might impose. It mostly depends on you. They like watching you fall asleep pressed against them because sometimes, on occasion, they allow their own eyes to shut. They do not need to, but being with you inspires hopes of ordinary domesticity; it reminds them to live.

But it never lasts long. The moment you shift in your sleep, and the fidgeting and the whimpering starts, Umbra is awake and alert. They once asked S what they might do to help in such a situation, but there is no magic cure, just reassurance. "I am here," they whisper, unsure if you can hear. "You are safe. You are safe." The words are a safety net they sometimes question whether they know how to wield.

You wake with a start, shoving yourself to the other side of the bed, chest heaving and hands shaking. You stare at Umbra, eyes wide, fear gripping your throat. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

"No," Umbra replies simply. "You never could."

"Would you prefer me to sleep elsewhere?"

"Why would I prefer that?" They query, cocking their head to one side. "I cannot protect you if you are anywhere else."

(Hopefully this was okay!)

[contentloadingandstuff]

Birthday NAU

So my 19th birthday was some time ago, the 20th of April to be exact.

I'm going to get myself a nice gift - I'm going to make a voiceover for some of my Necro AU characters and use ElevenLabs to make voices for them to read it out. I got myself a pro subscription for some of the money I got from family. All the text will be - obviously - original and the voice will be generated based on some retro games like Dark Omen, Myth and Warlords Battlecry.

Of course, I will write and publish them, alongside the audio, for anybody that still thinks NAU is interesting. But I'll just have some fun and honor the characters I made this blog for in the first place.

Yeah, it's sad that Mortuarius is so short and that I'm unhappy with the quality, meaning I'll likely either remake it and start from scratch or just put it to rest. I'm far too much of a perfectionist to actually feel what I've done up to now is enough to warrant any sort of even light interest, leading to a hopeless spiral of self critique and an overwhelming feeling of pointlessness. The crushing majority of ideas will be forever left to gather dust in my mind.

I can't draw, so I will likely never get to show you guys how I wanted them to appear. I can't animate, I can't render either - no videos will ever be made of them in action. All I have to introduce them into the world is my writing which is incredibly flawed, further proven by the narrative and worldbuilding mistakes made in Mortuarius, botched to a point where I cannot get myself to write anymore because as soon as I realised how limited the story of Denki is, when chosen to be approached from his initial training rather than much later on when he can actually do stuff and interact with Teyvat rather than just Umbra, I lost all momentum I had going.

Don't think I have it all planned either. Each new content drop for Genshin takes a hammer to my ideas and creates massive plotholes that I have to somehow explain. Or, at least, I feel I need the answers to. I am notoriously too demanding of myself, but I just can't help it. Unless NAU and its characters are Genshin-level in terms of content, there's no hope for them both. You may think that - hey, Genshin's lore is actually very mid and is also flawed while their characters of ten fall extremely short of their potential, come out as two-dimensional or like slightly different version of identical tropes. Like just look at Yoimiya and Mualani as an example. Or Kokomi and Jean. Or Zhongli and Neuvilette. Or Beidou and Dehya. They have different looks and lore, but their personalities are very close to each other - for me adding a band-aid in the form of limited time events is not a valid solution.

But Genshin remedies it with character design. Some fanservice, some bait, a lot of rule-of-cool type stuff and gameplay options. I cannot do any of this. NAU characters are not hot anime girls/guys that you can build and watch in-game. They won't ever measure up.

And so it goes, this train of thought, from one excuse and self-hating line to the other, wasting time, wasting effort, wasting opportunity. Even though I didn't post anything for NAU in months, I am fairly burnt out with it due to all this self-influcted pressure and the constant desire to "fix it" or "make it appealing". It was supposed to be fun, but it didn't end up this way.

So I'm doing these voicelines because I know I will have fun with them, and I will feel really happy and just a little bit proud of hearing them come to life in this homeopathical and fake way. "The people" won't care, but its okay. I'm doing this one for myself.

Thank you for everybody that reached this point of my stream of conciousness. Have a nice day.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: sabine and ezra finally share their first kiss. unfortunately, it’s on a broadcast to every rebel cell in the galaxy. chapter word count: 1232 a/n: Sorry this was a couple days late, there was a very slight risk of my laptop exploding. shoutout to @kanerallels for betaing. taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @kanerallels  @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse @dootchster  @lucasbridger @redroverrider  @light-umbra   @commander-tech  @jedimandalorian @notanodinarygirl  {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

Probably The Final Chapter Of This Fic

 "Ezra, what are you doing here?" Sabine asked, exasperation in her voice as she slid her sketchbook under her pillow.

 "Oh, so you're the only one allowed to leave in the middle of a party?" he asked. Usually, when he entered Sabine's room without knocking first, he'd be met by paint bombs, glitter grenades, and the occasional threat of a thermal detonator. This time, despite her apparent annoyance with him, she didn't even reach for her nearest explosive as he crossed the threshold.

 "We can't both be gone," Sabine said, "one of us has to head back to the party, like, twenty minutes ago."

 "Why?"

 "Everyone down there saw…" she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she chose careful wording, "us, Ezra. And then we both happen to slip away at the same time, headed in the same direction, alone, together. What are they gonna think?"

 She was right. That could have some fascinating implications. Ezra put them out of his mind.

 "Well, I'm not going back." Ezra said, recalling his narrow escape from the mob of gossips asking him questions about his nonexistent secret relationship with Sabine, "I didn't know there were that many teenage girl rebel sympathizers in the galaxy."

 "Then I guess it's my turn to make a public appearance." Sabine said.

 Ezra had never been one to deny Sabine something she wanted, if it was something within his power to help her obtain. But today, she was denying herself, and he wasn't going to stand for it. Rather, he was going to stand against it.

 When she tried to leave, he stood between her and the doorway, denying her an escape route.

 "Ezra, get out of my way, or I'll flatten you."

 "No you won't." Ezra said. He didn't doubt that she had the ability to knock him off his feet in any way she felt necessary, but somehow today he had the courage to stand his ground.

 "Ezra, come on," she said. Instead of knocking him over, she simply tried pushing past his arm that leaned on the doorway, and if he hadn't been holding himself in place with the force, she might've succeeded. "At least one of us has to go back. What are they gonna think…."

 Ezra grabbed both of her shoulders and held her in front of him. 

 "Since when has it mattered to you what other people think, Sabine?"

 Her eyes met his, but quickly darted away.

 "Since today," Sabine said. "Since gossip about us has gotten as far as Krownest. Since the entire galaxy got comfortable with talking about something we haven't had the chance to talk about ourselves."

 "I understand." Ezra said, and he did. "I'm already tired of it all, too. If you want to go back there, and hold your head up high like nothing ever happened," he stepped off to the side and motioned out the doorway, "then, by all means, go right ahead. It's your choice."

 He expected her to walk out, but instead she sighed and shook her head and asked, "and what's option two?"

 Ezra smiled. "Option two is we settle this problem ourselves. You said you don't want the entire galaxy talking about something— talking about us— when we haven't yet? It's a little late for that. We can't make them stop, and odds are, they were talking long before today. The only way to stop them from having any more conversation about us before we get the chance to is for us to talk about us. Now."

 She took another step toward the door.

 Then she stopped.

 She turned around and walked back across the room.

 She took a seat on her bed.

 And she motioned for him to sit next to her.

 He was half expecting a glitter bomb by the time he reached her, each step as careful as though the room was laden with traps, but by some miracle he was still alive by the time he took a seat next to her and waited patiently to follow her lead.

 "I've never been much of one for talking." Sabine said, quietly.

 "Then how about I go first?" Ezra asked.

 She only nodded in response, but the hint of a smile it revealed gave him courage to continue.

 "I really liked you at first, Sabine," he said, "from the minute I first met you, I really liked you. All I knew then was you were pretty and you hated the Empire and you were way too cool to be friends with me, and I had a crush on you. But that's changed."

 As he spoke, she'd gradually started to look towards him more and more, but on his last words, her head sank.

 "I don't like you anymore," Ezra said, "because 'like' is a really small word. I like Loth cats and I like jogan fruit and I like the color orange. I like a lot of things."

 He took her hand, and she looked back up to him.

 "I like a lot of things," he said, "but I love you."

 Even as she looked away from him, he couldn't help but notice her smile.

 "I love your smile." He said, "and I love your voice. And I love that look in your eye when a plan comes together, and that pride on your face when you've finished a project, and I love that all you have to do is say hi to me or brush past me in the hallway, or even just look at me, and I fall in love all over again. I love every part of you, everything about you. I love you."

 Though he'd been practicing this speech for years, ran through it in his head a thousand times on his way over here, the entire concept was probably foreign to Sabine. She had no idea how he felt, and there was no reason to believe she felt the same way.

 Still, he had hope.

 "I…" Sabine took a breath, then restarted. "You've really grown on me, Bridger. At first, I couldn't wait until you walked out of my life like everyone else— but now, I don't want to picture a life without you."

 He smiled as she looked up at him and whispered, "ni kar'taylir gar." He had no idea what that meant— based on his knowledge of mando'a and mandalorian culture, she could very likely be telling him he smells like a puffer pig or calling him an idiot, but for the look on her face and the affection her tone carried, she could call him a puffer-pig scented idiot for the rest of his life and he wouldn't care.

 "What does that mean?" He asked.

 "I hold you in my heart," she said, then followed it with, "I love you too."

 It took several moments for Ezra's heart to start working again, for the flying sparks in his soul to jump-start his brain and bring him back to his normal level of functionality. As soon as he could say something to her, he did.

 "I hold you in my heart, too, Sabine." Ezra said. "And I always will."

 Sabine smiled and leaned closer to him, and he was more than happy to close the distance between them.

 And the star crossed rebellion heroes shared a pure, precious kiss, not for all the galaxy to see, but simply for each other.

[callmearcturus]

(((full full full spoilers for SWDKTOWL)))

i don't know if I ever more thoroughly fucked with and decimated a character than KTOWL Dirk, the Umbra Executor

the biggest case of Eldest Daughter syndrome imaginable

a father who used his kids as basically black market credit cards to fund his ambitions

said father was not actually GOOD at those ambitions and got himself killed, leaving the kids with the debt

Dirk took on tremendous personal debt to buy his sister out of hers; she then vanished and he never knew if she even survived

he then made a well-intentioned deal to try to keep his younger brother out of the Murder Business and in doing so put that little brother on permanent house arrest in a hotel under pain of death

is the enforcement agent of the organization keeping his brother locked up and is compelled to defend their interests

meets a man who is explicitly the Enemy and that man is Actually Out Of His Mind on several appreciable levels, who is dangerous... and is the only person who looks at him and recognizes the unfathomable trauma he's been subjected to

and the whole Point, the entire Point, is that Dirk only survived as long as he did because there was a Code of Conduct that he had to follow, that if he betrayed it, he would be killed. when he has fucked up every single thing else in his life and has lost the game over and over and over his choices are self-termination from the weight of it all or to follow this Code and then the story drags him to a place where to get out, to finally do something right he has to CHOOSE to break the Executor's Code for 30 minutes and Dirk has spent his FUCKING LIFE learning that when he makes a choice, the worst possible outcome will be his reward

except this once. just this one time, the universe gives him a single break.

BUT THE FUN PART IS that all of this, this TREMENDOUS amount of bullshit has cracked his sanity to a point he can't be a Normal Person. his happy ending is a better keeper who actually cares about him. and that's good.

DIRK IS NOT EVEN MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN KTOWL BUT I STILL THINK OF HIM OFTEN