#remember to think of me in spirit

[timothyslucy]

me cheering on the little chenford friends in my phone watching the finale rn.

[u3pxx]

KIM KITSURAGI - “Is that. My kineema.”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Something in him is about to break, *big time*.

EMPATHY - And it’s not going to be pretty, do something!

- DRAMA [Formidable] - Everything is fine!

- “Sure is.”

DRAMA [Formidable: Failure] - Surely he’s aware that he’s not the *only* person in the world who owns a Kineema?

YOU - “Is it really *yours*? I mean, plenty of people have their own Kineemas, right? Like working men, government offices, uh, firefighters I guess, maybe even animal control people? Exactly! A million different people who could’ve driven it into the uh…”

DRAMA - Pause, my liege! Ixnay on the Ineemakay!

YOU - “It could even be our *mysterious* joyrider!”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your frenzied babbling falls deaf to the lieutenant's ears. Instead, he approaches the broken vehicle, sunken in the ice. He moves with a caution and gentleness you haven’t seen him display before.

INLAND EMPIRE - It must be cold and lonely down there, in the icy water. Maybe he could sense its sorrow, calling to him…

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - His hands, which are always stiffly placed behind his back, are trembling.

ENDURANCE - This is the shuffle of a tired, tired man.

HALF LIGHT - He’s going to do something drastic because of you. Oh god, terrible! You’re a terrible liar! You can’t look at this, you just can’t!

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - It's not *you* who drove his kineema into the sea. You have plenty of faults, but this one is decidedly not yours.

KIM KITSURAGI - He kneels down with his head bowed, casting his face in shadow. He plants a hand on the ice to stabilize himself, squinting to get a better view of the motor carriage. “Detective, it says ‘57’ on it.”

YOU - Sweat drips down your brow, and you feel a terrible headache coming. “Maybe our joyrider has an affinity for that number?”

LOGIC - He's not stupid, he knows that it's not that.

KIM KITSURAGI - “57.”

YOU - “What about 57?”, you brace yourself.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Precinct 57.”

YOU - You wince. “Kim, look-”

KIM KITSURAGI - “When I woke up in the Whirling-in-Rags with no memory of what happened during the days before, I've taken note that something of mine has gone missing.” He grits his teeth. "A very. Important. Something."

He runs his hands over his face, messing his already unkempt hair in the process. Regret creeps up on his features. “God. Fuck. They’re going to fire me over this, they’re not going to hear me out.”

EMPATHY - Desperation settles in the lieutenant's tone. Sadly, you find yourself in agreement, even if you don’t want it to be the truth.

YOU - “People are more valuable than machines, Kim.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “Not people like me.” He rasps.

YOU - “…”

KIM KITSURAGI - Before you can say anything more, you fail to notice the lieutenant carefully walking onto the edge of the ice. He looks over the frigid water, a dizzying blue that mirrors and distorts his exhausted face back to him.

YOU - “Kim?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Seconds pass as he looks to be contemplating something. Out of nowhere, he casually takes another step where the ice ends and the sea begins. It happens all too quick for the lieutenant to even voice a call for help— if he even wanted to — his body plunging into the cold water before your eyes.

YOU - “KIM!!!!”

uhhh bonus stuff? sorry i have swap au brainworms pfttt

(im not sure what skills kim has at the moment so rn he only has narration as his inner monologue ok whoops, i would like to keep harry as the guy who thinks in dialogue trees so im still figuring it out pfttt)

also, this was done bc i wanted to expand on these old scribbles of mine, just like an idea, i just think that he'd be having an even worse time wheezes

[ganondoodle]

did a little sketch yesterday that i really liked and tried to get it done today just so i got literally anything to post- but i fell into the trap of 'making sketches to elaborate and thus really stiff and non fun' (for me), ... soooooo .. im redoing the whole thing

but the idea was a mummy ganondorf for my (yes still existing) totk rewrite; i wanted to make him more scary looking and also emphasize just how horrid it must be to be kept in between life and death by having your heart grabbed by a cold and vengeful magical hand for thousands of years (in this case the ancient queen .. which i also tried to sketch despite not showing up aside from her dissolving hand)

the spell starting to fail and his body being more damaged in some parts (jaw being only the bones left for example) and his chest open from being slowly eaten up by the queens magic, the ribs contorting around it like its a gravitational pull- sounds cooler than it looks bc this sketch did not work out, so im saving the details for the .. hopefully, better version

[egophiliac]

Have you heard of the "Crowley is Malleus' dad" theory going around? Where Prince Levan (or whatever his name is) didn't actually die and just went out to get some milk and is now known as Dire Crowley, the silly man? The implications of that theory is absolutely hilarious when you think about it

hold on, we can figure this out, we just need LISTS

PROS THAT CROWLEY IS SECRETLY REVAAN/LEVAN/LAVERNE/WHATEVER:

unspecified fae of some kind, with similar coloring to Mal

the animal masks are apparently a Briar Valley thing

has some kind of big blackmailable secret that was alluded to in episode 4, and then as far as I know never brought up again

(unless this was just Azul bullshitting, which is extremely possible)

based on Diablo, which...maybe means something?

has canonically worn Dad Shorts

CONS:

(gestures to Crowley's entire personality)

NO LISTEN Revaan was the guy they sent off on diplomatic missions and to take care of delicate political situations, and...look, I love this dweeb, but would you trust Crowley to be in charge of negotiating your war treaties

despite my brain insisting on reading his name as "Raven", Revaan's title does imply that he was also a dragon (or super into longan berries, I'm not ruling that out)

currently unclear why Lilia "my closest friend Revaan...he is no longer with us...I used to make fun of him for being kind of a priss about eating jerky..." Vanrouge has somehow not noticed or said anything

Malleus' Aloof Anime ~Aristocrat~ vibe had to come from somewhere, and by all accounts it was NOT his mom's side of the family

???:

turns into a bird in the opening, I don't know if that means anything but it's kinda cool, I guess

all that aside, if Malleus and Yuu are any indication, then the Draconias have...questionable taste in their social choices. so anything is possible!

[amanitacurses]

[psmith73]

"Handshakes"

[sysig]

“It could be that the loss of her children drove the Queen deeper into her darker desires...but, I don’t believe she was fighting against them that hard before that particular tragedy. No monster does.” (Patreon)

Bonus:

Hmm, wonder what he could cover those holes with :3c

[riddlemearose]

Okay hear me out.

What if, and I mean this genuinely but also definitely more comedically than anything else, what if Wild's companion in Tears of the Kingdom was the Fierce Deity?

HEAR ME OUT.

It's this big thing in the LU fandom, Wild being in the minority of Links whom didn't have a companion on their journeys (I think Hyrule and Legend ((?)) are the other two). Yes he had wolf-Twilight in botw, but depending on what you think Twi was able to do, he technically doesn't count.

However in totk, Wild definitely doesn't have a companion. There's no Wolfie, no Flora. All you've really got are the Sages' ghostly forms, and I firmly Do Not Believe they count at all.

But we are all overlooking the absolute funniest solution to this, so once again, for your consideration, the Fierce Deity is Wild's totk companion.

Like Wild finds the Fierce Deity mask somewhere in his Hyrule and recognises it. Naturally he immediately goes "yeah this is probably a horrible idea but imma still do it" and puts it on more out of curiosity than anything else. And the Deity, who's spent the last several millenia slowly losing power - both from a lack of physical presence in the world and lack of worshippers of any degree - recognises this dumb idiot and adopts Wild on the spot. He knows this dumbass! His previous host cared very deeply about this idiot, so that means logically the Deity now has to as well. Duh.

The Deity's strength has waned significantly, so He can't offer the same power he had once offered to Time to fight Majora and the moon (read: He can't possess people anymore), but He can give blessings of strength, which is a win in Wild's book.

But way more importantly, the Fierce Deity is 100% done with literally everything that's going on at all times, and makes sure that Wild knows it. Which means that, instead of giving like actually sound advice, He ends up being kinda like Venom except Wild is 75-80% more likely to agree with him.

So totk ends up being kinda like this:

Muzu: *spouting off about how "Zelda" tried to kill Dorephan and brought all the sludge to the Zora's Domain* Fierce Deity *in the back of Wild's mind*: What A Dick -- Wild: *getting beaten up by the first Phantom Ganon he comes across* Fierce Deity: You're Making Us Look Bad! Wild: no I'm not! Fierce Deity: YES YOU ARE! Wild: NO IM NOT! -- Wild: yeah I'm def going to die Fierce Deity: You Are Not Going to Die! *kills everything* -- Wild: *stands at the edge of a sky island* Fierce Deity: Jump. Wild *equipping glide armour*: I like your funny words, magic man

(If you haven't seen that Petite Merde comic by CathianeDraws, you are missing out my friend)

[welcometogrouchland]

I miss them so bad (Dick and Damian)

[ghostbird-art]

Cursed Relics - Longsword

[lesbworth]

in love with this article from 1891 that attempts a cutting satire of the Woke Youth but only succeeds in a charming little account of a masc girl and a twink on a date. stalwart gf and effeminate bf sounds like the next hot new ship meme

(transcription in alt text)

[sohemotional]

Does anyone remember seeing a Tyzula fic from AO3 that I swear was around about four years ago or so maybe even from before the ATLA renaissance - it was set post-ATLA, Tyzula are adults (iirc they were married) in a happy relationship and Ty Lee wanted a child so Azula wished to the spirits for this to happen and Azula iirc had to complete some task first. Then her wish was granted and Ty Lee became pregnant. Maiko were also in the fic and friendly with the two of them if I’m remembering right. I think it was either a one shot or two shot either way it was a short fic. If anyone has a link I’d be eternally grateful

[applestorms]

much love to the (multiple) mutuals i’ve seen agony posting on this fine new year’s day my heart is with you all in spirit 🎉🎉 the pain is incredible but this too will change

[rockingrobin69]

Horrid

“It’s horrid!” Pansy cried delightfully.

“It’s vintage,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. He wrapped the shawl over his shoulder carefully, and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, secret admirer. This one is my favourite.”

“What! I got you an actual Prada, you git.”

The tip of Malfoy’s lip tugged upwards, and something fluttered in Harry’s chest, unbound. It shouldn’t still have such an effect on him. It did. “Yes, love, and it was very nice. Thank you.” He turned to give her a little kiss on the cheek (and Harry didn’t pout, because he wasn’t a baby, but he felt his face do something, not small and not subtle).

“Good loot this year,” Greg said with a considerate hum at the piles stuffing the back room. “Much better than last.”

“Yes, it’s almost like you’re famous now, darling,” Pansy drawled. “Have you seen the amount of people outside? Your show’s going to be wild.”

“I’ve seen,” Malfoy said. “I’ve also noticed the, ah, addition to the list.”

Everyone else in the room looked at each other then promptly dropped it. “What do you,” Greg, and “Certainly nothing,” Pansy, and “Hmm,” from Harry, who couldn’t think words fast enough. Then silence. Then:

“She wanted to come,” Harry found himself saying, and felt like a right idiot. It wasn’t his place and it wasn’t even a thing. It was just, Malfoy with that hint of a blush, the tightening in the corner of his mouth and the way his long fingers kept tapping the edge of the table. “The flowers are from her.”

Malfoy very pointedly did not look at the bouquet. Must have been quite the effort; it took over half of the room. “I,” he said, then swallowed. “Well then. Mother picked a good show to attend. I’m sure she’ll be entertained.”

Harry’s seen his show a hundred and seventeen times before. ‘Entertaining’ wasn’t even close, not in the realm of what he was, of what he created. Like magic but not flawless: thoughtful and honest and brilliant and tight. And large and bright and colourful. And compelling and funny and direct. And—

“What,” Malfoy, dryly, at the helpless thing Harry’s face was doing. “Speak.”

Pansy and Greg were looking at him too. Fuckers: they all agreed on this, and now of course he’s the one caught in Malfoy’s crossfire. In his disappointed eyes. Pleading, “You’re the most—your show is—she wants to see, so what? So she’ll see. Worst case she goes home and you still never speak to her. Best case…” left it off, no chance for him to say the right thing anyway. The depth of it, the hurt of it, and the miracle of it were all Malfoy’s to determine.

“Merlin, you absolute sap,” but without the venom Harry knew his voice still possessed. A hand, warm around his sleeve: and glitter, and Malfoy with his mascara-long lashes, and his lovely, lovely, lovely eyes, and being so close and bafflingly warm and smelling so nice, so sharp.

“Okay,” Malfoy said. “You will all pay for this, of course. But okay. I didn’t—never expected her to want to see me.”

Who wouldn’t? Harry thought. Ah, no, said, out loud. Everyone heard, including Malfoy, whose expression took on this icy disbelief quickly melting into something… worse.

“Oh.”

“Erm,” said Greg.

“I…” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks caught on fire.

“Well,” said Pansy.

Malfoy looked from her, to Greg, to Harry. His eyes were—very eyes. His face, entirely face. “All right,” he said evenly. “Too much. For just now. Harry, if you wouldn’t mind staying after the show?”

Like he has done for the past, what, three months? Every night? “Sure.”

The amusement-confusion-nausea must have been evident in his voice, for Malfoy rolled his eyes, and at that moment there was nothing dearer than him in the whole universe. “Right.” Toying with the shawl, the one Harry agonised for ages over purchasing. “Right. You’re all arseholes and get out of my dressing room, etcetera.” When they shuffled to leave: “Wait—Harry.”

Gulping, he stayed.

“I,” Malfoy said, “don’t normally appreciate people butting in.”

Gulped louder. “Sorry. I know it’s… shitty. Sorry.”

“You will be,” dead serious. “Also, thank you. For the gift.”

“You’re welcome?” Was it very obvious, how badly he wanted to give him everything? Malfoy, being Malfoy, laughed.

“All right, tosser, off you go now. Pansy wants to get you drunk, by the way. She thinks it’s funnier when you’re drunk. Did you know you speak rather a lot? When inebriated. Anyway, she thinks it might be necessary, but I have other plans, so better keep sharp, hmm? Will you be a good boy for me?”

Throat dried up so quickly he stumbled, “Y-yeah. Yeah? Yes. Yeah.”

He was so beautiful in his eyelashes and glitter and the shawl. And the kohl and the nose and the look in his eyes which were so very eyes and so very his.

It truly was staggering, how gone Harry was. How terribly he liked it. “See you after,” he said, his voice strangely soft, and bent to place a brave kiss at Malfoy’s cheek. Then ran away, to the traitors Pansy and Greg who were waiting at the bar, ready to squeal and punch his arm and give awful advice he would never take.

Horrid and bright and not flawless. And magic.  

For anon, from ages ago.

[arlathen]

people keep pointing out that mythal's vallaslin looks like solas' spirit form and acting like she designed it after him. it seems far more likely to me that the evanuris designed each of their vallaslin after their OWN spirit form. since we know from the art books that all spirits looked like nervous systems like that. which imo would be extremely cool. and fucked up!

[iniziare]

Following my usual daily ventures on X and Tumblr, I realized that there's two things that I wanted to address/bring up. So, as per usual: spoilers. /echo, echo.

— The Fade prison is still failing. It needed replacement (which is referenced on several occasions, but a big one is during the memory with Mythal that expands on the DAI scene), and nothing in current lore tells me that this has changed in any way: it's still failing. Nothing I can find says that it now being bound to Solas, who is decently weaker than Elgar'nan, magically 'resolves' that issue. Therefore, his 'atonement' doesn't automatically equate to an 'eternal imprisonment', even if Lavellan's choice of words for going with him include 'forever', for she simply doesn't know what she's walking into or for how long, and instead enforces this tether to him from the deepest form of trust one one else could ever find (heartbreak.mp3). The atonement lasts as long as Rook decides as they hold the dagger, or until the Veil falls on its own. But that touches on another topic briefly: if you want to 'punish' Solas the most, or longest— though this ending is 'kindest' (not quite), it is the one that keeps him in the prison the longest. The dagger trick (this warrants a post on its own, and it's the only one I have writing beef with, character 'bias' aside), or the worst ending(s) all send the lyrium dagger with him, which, has you wonder if he's then simply given the opportunity to slice into the Veil, and slip out. Does the prison need a host, if said host holds the lyrium dagger? And even if he couldn't what could he do from inside after 'Pride' has been taunted, and 'punished' (in Rook's, and the audience's eyes), since again, he is in possession of his dagger? There is no atonement here, only resentment from a spirit that is now even closer to finding its fully perverted nature of a Pride demon. So I think if speaking morally across the board, which option is really 'for the greater good of Thedas', instead of personal resentment (though understandable)? But in that, I like that we're repeatedly told that we don't know, and we're making it up as we go. Out of all protagonists, Rook's personal journey of mental development is the most intriguing to me, and arguably (in my opinion), is the most 'human' in the sense that I think they give us the most relatable options of choice, understandable/relatable resentment being one of them. But anyway, I digress: if the atonement ending isn't chosen, then I definitely think the story isn't quite concluded, even though I don't believe that it ever really is.

— Blood magic. No, Solas has no loathing for the nature of blood magic at its essence. He stated so very clearly back in DAI during a conversation with the Inquisitor in Haven, and the bit of the conversation that pertains to my point goes as follows: 'Magic is magic, just as water is water, but it can be used in different ways. (...) Dalish magic is more practical, not needing Chantry approval, although they still frown on blood magic. Superstition.' And when you ask him to elaborate, 'You said censure against blood magic was a superstition...' He adds: 'Most modern cultures forbid blood magic. Publicly, even Tevinter disapproves of it. But as I said, magic is magic. It matters only in how it is used.' And yes, I can already hear it, I know exactly what point will be brought up (lucky me, I found a video that touches on this exact topic that showcases both scenes): and I want to say firmly that no, this is not a retcon, nor is it Solas changing his mind, nor is this a total and utter lie (he rarely, rarely lies that fully, and clearly). He simply states that he abhors the use of it, as in— he, himself, despises using it; which is why he so firmly says no to Cole, when the notion is brought up in DAI. Now yes, he did employ the use of blood magic in relation to Rook (the extents, I need to do research on, as it's obvious that Solas absolutely winged that part of this 'plan', but all of it is also a bit flimsily written due to, for starters, the details that Varric shares being incredibly personal at times, but I digress), and I see so many on X and whatnot complain of how this means that 'Solas changed his mind', no— what it intends to show you, is the ferocity with which he believes that he, and only he, is able to fix what he broke. The game intends to show you that over, and over again, and it is to prove just how far a spirit can be pushed from where it started. And no, stop approaching Solas as if he is your regular elf next door, or anything but exactly what he is: a spirit. Trying to sway a spirit from its nature is incredibly difficult (we'll go into Mythal, and the nature of his care, and devotion to her that started the journey of his spirit's perversion, another day), and that is literally the explanation behind what people are calling an 'inconsistency'. It's called desperation, but more so, the strength of a belief, or more specifically, how far something that is akin to being... the 'personification' of a belief can go in, well, its own belief. I think Solas has proven that one can go very far. The perversion of spirits, and the reality of what demons then truly are, is a tragedy that Dragon Age has been trying to prove to us for years. It doesn't take away the wrongs that they can do once they get twisted, but it's tragic, because spirits are benevolent; serene, and peaceful at their core. And it's kind of heartbreaking to know that something so purely good, can be pulled from that nature.