madzilla84

[madzilla84]

Okay, so, I want you all know, what in russian, Emmrich calls Rook "my heart" or " my soul" (and "my happiness" once or twice) which is sending me to heaven every time

And, and, he's using "you" in a respectful way, which was common between russian couples until 20th century (around that time)

My dear victorian husband, I can't

[madzilla84]

Making this man laugh with the ulterior motive of deepening those beautiful laugh lines and crows feet 🫶😈

[madzilla84]

This scene was a pleasant surprise - nice to have a bit of push-and-pull in a romance so you can make up at the end 🥹

🪲💀🐦‍⬛

[madzilla84]

I made Manfred meme stickers that you can get right here if you feel so inclined uwu

[madzilla84]

found this pattern on a ridge in minrathous and couldn't stop thinking about it!

so here are a dozen dividers, in swatches pulled from shadow dragon armor, veilguard ui, and neve's cosplay guide (plus a stray pink one bc i can). created on canva and free to use with credit!

if there's a color you'd like to see, just kindly let me know :3

[madzilla84]

Definitely one of the Top Images of all time I gotta say

[madzilla84]

Treat anything on Discord as media that will be lost

Do not use Discord to host your files. Do not rely on Discord to preserve your text. DO NOT RELY ON DISCORD FOR ANY KIND OF PRESERVATION OR HOSTING!!

It CAN be lost, it WILL be lost! You must consider Discord as a part of the Core Internet, controlled by one company that hosts the servers.

I thought it was impressive at first that it replaced IRC, but now I am horrified. If the company behind Discord went under today, how many friends would you lose?

How many relationships? How much writing?

You may think this won't happen, but I remember when AIM went down and along with it, entire novels worth of interaction with my oldest friend.

IT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU. IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN. NO COMPANY IS INFALLIBLE.

Back up your files! Download anything you've saved to Discord NOW, before the API changes go into effect! And DO NOT RELY ON THEM FOR HOLDING IMPORTANT FILES!

[madzilla84]

If you’re having a bad day just remember that Paul is in Ringo’s phone as “Mac Macca” 📱❤️

[madzilla84]

I periodically see ships that make me go "What?! No! No!" and then move on and don't harass anyone and feel so strong and brave.

[madzilla84]

thinking about the japanese racehorse who was such a failgirl she became a folk hero for losers

[madzilla84]

Can't stand that guy.

[madzilla84]

Harding Week 2025 -- Free Day

Here I am, skating in on the last day of Harding Week -- whew! I started noodling on this weeks ago but couldn't get both brain and time together at the same time until this weekend. Enjoy, and thanks to @datvcompanionweeks for hosting!

Bump in the Night

996 words. No warnings (unless "creepy" needs a warning?).

Lace was familiar with all the sounds of the night. She even knew how those sounds differed from place to place. The night birds of Orlais were not the same as those of Arlathan. The soft song of creek and stream that usually lulled her to sleep here in Ferelden was replaced in the Hissing Wastes by the dry susurration of wind-driven sand.

At the moment, though, she rather wished for silence. The watery chuckle of the brook below their campsite might be drowning out other sounds. A sneaking slither, perhaps. A foot dragging in the dust. The creak of joints.

She curled a little more tightly into her blanket. 

She could hear Emmrich’s muffled snores well enough; that sound, at least, was a comfort. Their tents were only a few paces apart, his looking palatial next to her simple scout’s pitch. She pictured him lying there with his too-many pillows, a stack of books beside his cot like a nightstand. He had even brought an umbrella. She scoffed. The man was ridiculous.

And so was that story he’d told over the campfire. Ridiculous. No one believed that sort of thing. Least of all Lace Harding. There had been long years when she’d slept under the stars more nights than she’d slept under a roof, and she’d never yet been taken by a... by a... what had he called it?

A bone-collector.

She shivered. It had been stupid to ask a necromancer for a ghost story in the first place. But he’d looked so uncomfortable perched on his little stool, shifting positions every five minutes trying to keep the smoke out of his eyes and slapping at the mosquitos that buzzed around his perfectly-groomed head. 

She’d told him sitting around the campfire was tradition. That it was half the fun of camping with friends. That the smell of woodsmoke would wash out in the laundry when they got back to the Lighthouse.

And then, idiot that she was, she’d asked for a story. A ghost story. 

And he’d told one, hadn’t he? Told it cheerfully, as if he didn’t know ghost stories should be solemnly intoned like a dirge, not chirped like a robin at sunrise. She could still hear his voice in her mind.

“Many spirits hunger for a body, but most are content to wait their turn. Some may try to take matters into their own hands, but few are strong enough to have any effect upon the living. The bone-collector is one of those latter.”

Something moved outside the tent.

She froze, listening, but whatever it was moved off further into the woods. She sighed at herself. She was acting like a fool. Even so, she tucked her legs up deeper into her bedroll, edging as far as she could from the opening of the tent flap.

It started with the feet, he’d said.

“The creature begins at the toes, delicately extracting the phalanges one by one. The metatarsals follow, and then the tarsals. It tumbles those in its maw like misshapen dice before moving on to the long bones of the limb. There is no pain, I’m told, but it wouldn’t matter. Even if the victim were to wake at that point, they’d have no recourse. Can you imagine? All that boneless flesh where once were feet and legs. They could hardly run away.”

A little squeak escaped her throat and she scolded herself. She wasn’t a child, to be scared of the things that go bump in the night. She was Scout Lace Harding, and she’d fought darkspawn and battled demons and even stood her ground against gods. She wasn’t about to lose a night of sleep to a spooky story told by a man who brought a shaving kit into the woods.

Her resolve lasted perhaps ten minutes.

“Emmrich,” she hissed into the darkness. Waiting for a response, she felt the quiet stretch like a bowstring. She was about to call out again when she heard the man shift on his cot. 

“Harding?” His voice was gravelly with sleep.

“Are you awake?”

“I believe so.” Emmrich cleared his throat. “Is something amiss?”

She sighed in relief and rolled onto her side so she could face in the direction of his tent.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I just...” What in Thedas was she supposed to tell him? She felt a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. “I was just... wondering. About... well... about that thing. The one in the story. With the bones and all.”

“Yes?” Emmrich sounded puzzled, even through the walls of canvas between them.

Lace screwed her eyes shut and grimaced. “It’s... it isn’t real, right? It’s just a story. Make believe.”

There was a pause. “Oh my dear Harding. I didn’t mean to frighten you. No, you need not be concerned about the bone-collector.”

Lace put her arm over her eyes and exhaled. “Thank the Maker,” she muttered.

“Not here, at any rate.”

She froze. “What do you mean, not here?”

“Well, they’re only known in Nevarra.” He hesitated. “Though there are rumors from the Arbor Wilds--”

“Emmrich!”

“Oh come now, Harding. The Frostbacks are surely a sufficient barrier between us and the Wilds.”

She pulled the blanket over her head. “So they can’t cross mountains?”

“Well, that hasn’t really been thoroughly researched, but--”

“Just. Say. They can’t,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Ah. I see. Well... yes, then. I feel quite certain there are no bone-collectors on this side of the Frostbacks.”

She sighed and poked her head back out of her blankets. The night was no less dark than it had been a few minutes ago, but it was a familiar Fereldan darkness. The chatter of water over rock was a lullaby once more, and the sway of the tent flap at her feet was nothing more than the breeze.

“Thank you, Emmrich,” she murmured, just loudly enough to carry across the space between their tents.

“Sleep well, my dear.”

[madzilla84]

Tiny Emmy is proud of you for making it through another week.

[madzilla84]

This is always one of my favorite shots every run and I wanted to expound on why that is because it runs into a lot of critique I see. Not trying to be snarky for a change this is way Veilguard positive and sincere. Rook is my favorite protagonist out of every BioWare game.

People get really bogged down in why the gods just let Rook and the gang go at multiple points in the story. It confused me too in D’meta’s crossing. I was really itching for a Big Hero Moment at Weisshaupt like the Inqusitor gets at Haven. Instead I got one of my favorite missions in a Dragon Age game.

And when I got there I saw this. This is why the Evanuris don’t care about Rook unless they have the dagger. Because why would they? They destroyed the Grey Wardens, an army, like it was nothing. It didn’t take them long at all. They rolled over a fortress that stood for over a thousand years. They don’t see Rook and the Veilguard as a threat because at this point in time, they’re not. Even if the Inquisitor had shown up with all of their power and connections this still would have been the result.

It’s why Rook is the protagonist. Rook represents the people of Thedas as they are now, and at the beginning of the game Rook is a nobody. Solas only acknowledges their existence because he’s forced to when they drop a statue on his head, and even then he only sees them as a pawn against the other Evanuris. Varric knows this about Solas. Varric knows who they’re fighting. It’s why Varric picked Rook.

People are missing the very heart of Veilguard’s story by ignoring who and what Rook is and it’s crazy because they’re such a great protagonist. Rook looks at a fucking storm and keeps fighting anyways. That’s the kind of person I want to be. The kind that sees the end of the world crashing down on them and keeps going because it’s the right thing to do.

[madzilla84]

TOP 5 MOST PRESSING QUESTIONS ABOUT CAPTAIN PICARD:

Is he GAY? Is he ALIVE? Is he GAY? Is he DEAD? Is he GAY?

[madzilla84]

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Season 5 Episode 06: “Trials and Tribble-ations”

This might genuinely be the most endearingly self-indulgent episode of television in history.

[madzilla84]

Which Veilguard companion would be the best parent in your opinion and why? Bellara Lutare

Davrin Emmrich Volkarin Lace Harding Lucanis Dellamorte Neve Gallus Taash

Feel free to reblog/reply with your reasoning!