#ghoul!warden

[ghulah]

do people know that ifrit, the term, is a cultural concept? and that ifrit, the ghoul, can (and mayhaps shld) be informed by that or no? if anyone wld like elaboration tell me, im unwell ab ghost.

[breadedsinner]

Snippet Sunday

Loghain had discarded his Warden uniform, the silver plating with dark blue padding and the griffon emblazoned on the chest. In its stead, he wore rawhide, lined with fur. It was clearly old, frayed at the edges. It was very Ferelden, both in style and in its endurance.

With Wardens on the hunt for him, Hawke found her mind back in the Deep Roads, under the Vinmark Mountains. Though made wretched with the Blight, she didn’t think Larius could have been that old, fifty years, perhaps. His scalp was bare in places, the ragged remnants of a beard in disarray, but what patches of hair remained was still chestnut brown. He only had a mask of wrinkles of his eyes, framing foggy marbles of eyes.

She looked back at Loghain, silver threaded his raven hair, creases along eyes. She did not know how the Calling, real or fake, functioned. Did it have anything to do with age, or was it random? Anders never spoke of it and she did not ask. She could only guess.

Still, she looked up Loghain, thought of Larius, that poor lost soul, and the remaining embers of anger of Ostagar faded. If that was to be his fate, weather a year or ten years from now, it seemed more than adequate punishment.

[sapphim]

if I really am going to start reverting bits of my canon worldstate back to how they were prior to 2020 then I have to reconsider if I want to have mahariel do that thing again where, instead of mercy killing tamlen when she encounters him as a ghoul near the dragonbone wastes, she instead pins him down and cries and begs and pleads until he agrees to give her a chance to fix things before he does anything drastic, and then makes the party immediately reverse course so she can drag him back to soldier's peak to make avernus see what he can do to help him. good idea? probably not but she's never known when to quit.

[amatres]

anyway my personal ranks of origins backstories just in the game by themselves is brosca and tabris at the top, aeducan at the bottom. cousland i will admit is pretty impactful but i still feel like, as wild as an option it would have been, that a cousland warden should had the option to solo rule. they are from the only other teryn in ferelden and it's even said that it was considered for bryce to rule so like! come on!

aeducan is at the bottom because it so tightly locks you into siding against bhelen, which i suppose is fair for brosca being so skewed in behlens favor bc of rica, but brosca is just Good so i forgive that, while aeducan is just suffering.

i still stand by my idea that the 'noble' dwarven origin shouldn't have been the second aeducan child, they should have been the second aeducan's second in place of gorim. that way there would have been more room for roleplay. also the second aeducan child would have been a secret third option for ruler of orzammar that you would encounter with the legion of the dead that they joined after being kicked out.

you would have to both do the legion of dead quest to give them a noble caste, and also have high as hell coercion for it to work but it would really cool and also so funny to do. that said the origin just by itself is pretty fun, love being backstabbed by my second favorite baby brother from the dragon age franchise

mahariel and the magi warden are in the 'i like them but they don't feel as impactful' as much as it hurts me. they're both just kinda there, however that said if the game let you recruit jowan into your party that would bring the magi warden up much higher. alas.

[queenaeducan]

it’s funny ppl are talking like corypheus surviving the dlc was something bioware pulled out of their ass in da:i like it wasn’t blatantly obvious within the legacy dlc itself

[z0mbyez]

i love anders/blood mage hawke that goes into the entropy school. “im part ghoul part abomination and this is my boyfriend who works with horrors beyond our comprehension :)” so true bestie

[endawn]

immediately after the broodmother fight, pax starts walking into a random tunnel; dropping his sword. doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t speak. simply walks off. if the warden notices and turns him around, he has darkspawn blood staining and dripping from his mouth. he’s already being corrupted by the blight. he’ll say he made a mistake. needs to go. please do not follow. with what’s left of his mind, he’s trying to get as far away from them as possible. hope he does not find them. it’s best for the warden to let him go, otherwise they’ll have to fight a blighted abomination.

[iamthescalesofjustice]

still thinking darkspawn chronicles surana

[laurelsofhighever]

A list of potential cures for the Calling, that we know about, that BioWare has apparently forgotten

Andraste's grace: it's not specified whether the flower the kennelmaster has you pick in the Korcari Wilds is Andraste's grace or if the game just needed a one-off asset and decided to reuse one they already had. However, in the dark future in DAI, Leliana is found to have unusual tolerance for the taint, and in DAO she talks about her mother pressing her laundry with dried Andraste's grace flowers, so it makes you wonder. Anyway, the flower stops Barkspawn becoming a ghoul and seems to make them immune to the taint from that point on.

Maric's longsword: he finds it in the Deep Roads and is suprised it isn't covered in the same Blight-rot as everything else - until, that is, he touches the sword to a patch of it and sees it wither away. Whether it's the dragonbone the sword is made of or the runes on the blade is difficult to say, though if it was just the dragonbone then it would make sense for that to be a more well-known property of the material (and would have been an interesting reason for why dragons were hunted to extinction). If Alistair carries it with him, doesit slow the progession of the taint through his body? Does he know its effects, and give it to the HoF to help keep them safer on their journey to find a permanent cure?

That obsidian dagger Duncan finds in The Calling: the dagger belonged to First Enchanter Remille - who also gave the expedition members brooches that accelerated the spread of the taint. iirc the both the dagger and the brooches are made by the Architect with Blight magic, which means the darkspawn magisters have more knowledge of how the Blight works than the Chantry attributes to them.

Whatever the fuck is going on with Avernus: he hasn't managed to cure himself yet, but he's managed to make it to 200 and the Warden can let him continue his experiments if they don't kill him - and he'd be a really useful resource if the Warden later wanted to send him other potential cures for testing.

Dragons: they have an ability to isolate the Blight in their bodies by forming crystaline cysts around the initial infection to stop it spreading. Useful if it can be more widely applied. Also, it's implied that Maric's reaver blood, which Calenhad gained by mixing his blood with a dragon's, is what somehow cured Fiona of the taint, kinda like a reverse STI, BUT in the Deep Roads they went through an area where the walls were coated in a pale, chalky substance suspiciously devoid of Blight-rot and she touched it, so I'm a bit suspicious of that.

Blood magic: makes sense since the taint is a problem that starts with infected blood. There are two major instances in DA canon where blood magic has been used to purge the taint from an object or being (both by elves btw). The first is Isseya using it to draw the taint out of a clutch of unhatched griffon eggs, which she says is only possible because the taint hasn't yet taken over the hatchlings' bodies to the same extent that it had with the adult griffons. The second instance is Merrill purging the Blighted eluvian in DA2. It's insane that Anders - who is a reluctant Warden and who possibly knows the HoF seeks a cure - isn't more excited about this. She literally removed the Blight from a fully tainted object. Since Isseya proved the same can be done with living tissue, it's probably the closest we've come to an actual cure, but since it also took years there's no telling if it could be a practicaly solution for all Wardens

[vigilskeep]

mairyn is my idea of a hawke who was really defined by the horrors of ostagar. even as the warden, up in the tower, we never quite experience what it was like down in the mud when the banners started going down and the battle rush turned to panic

she was one of the first to desert when the tide began to turn, blindly shooting down anyone—darkspawn or fellow soldier—who tried to stand between her and getting her brother and getting out. her commanding officer had been a gruff but honourable nobleman, a mentor figure who’d taken a chance on a scoundrel with a tongue too sharp for her own good. she doesn’t know what happened to him, whether if in his final moments he had been thankful she’d fled or cursed her for abandoning him. all she knows is that in the days between ostagar and lothering, his old mabari found her, and has limped along in her shadow since

her life is definitely cleanly cut down the middle between ‘before’ and ‘after’. i like the absence of ostagar in what we see, because i like the idea that the one thing mairyn would make varric promise is to cut ostagar and carver’s death from the story, as he does in the exaggerated intro. one story she won’t tell, like his bianca

she’s evenly weighted purple/red, restless and resentful, saying whatever will cut the deepest or spark the most laughter, anything to have an impact, start a fight, dodge the personal. she’s definitely rushing through life, going for everything that’s exciting and dangerous and fun, quick to leave baggage behind. she’s still running from ostagar. the only time she stopped was to drag carver to safety, and it was for nothing, just to lose him anyway. she won’t make the same mistake again. she loves her family, sure, on the days she doesn’t want to strangle them, but no matter what her father asked her to do—play the third parent and always be a protector for her siblings, like she would never have her own life, like she didn’t matter—she’s going to live for what she wants. running has to be the right answer, the only thing anyone can do, because if it isn’t, she’ll have to face what she did that night at ostagar

pretty unfortunate that she’s about to fall in love with a lot of people who can’t be truly saved, but need you to stop and try anyway!

also her entire aesthetic in my head is based on this one hawke concept art:

wet cat of a woman. horrible kirkwall ghoul. you should never be completely sure somebody didn’t fish her out of the docks this morning

[ghulah]

belly dancer ifrit??

Thank you for your ask, Seafoam! Hmm, much to consider!

Honestly, as an Egyptian, I don't think I thought about Ifrit particularly that way. I do headcanon some characters or some of my OC's to belly dance, but not him for some reason? However if there are other Egyptians out there who wanna weigh in tell me because I love hearing different interpretations, especially since belly dancing did originate here.

I mean, would Ifrit do a little jig? Would he shimmy and dance around with whatever jinn/afareet friends he has(as afareet are a subset of jinn, who exist on a different plane from humans but exist in the same place, just invisible to the human eye)? Or maybe jam out to mahraganat (Egyptian party music) or the good old Egy-Pop? Yes, I think so! I don't know about him dancing to proper belly-dancing music or having any professional experience. Like, I don't know if I envision him in a belly-dancing suit doin that whole thing.

I do think he's the guy on the tabla(percussion) or the oud(lute/guitar) or the nay(flute) - most probably the oud, playing along while someone else dances. I think he sometimes stands up to do a few grand moves and shimmy around, maybe pop a hip or two and play around!

I might actually make a playlist of Arabic (or specifically Egyptian) songs I associate with Ifrit later. The artist I associate with him the most is Afroto, because of obvious reasons, afroto is a riff on afreet/ifrit. But his songs are very quintessential mahraganat/Egy-rap.

But yeah!! This ask actually made me think about Ifrit more, I need to like - look into him as a character further to see how I dissect him in my head lol.

By the way, if anyone's interested because of this conversation - here is a playlist of music by SWANA artists, in English and Arabic and in different dialects in some cases.

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Pomefiore vs. Neige Leblanche Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Pomefiore Version

ie. In which no actor alive is apparently able to comprehend the expression ‘too much.’ Or, Neige sends you far too many flowers and Vil reacts about just as well as you would expect.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

Everything was going great.

Sure, Rook had nearly assassinated you through the power of embarrassment alone and Vil was still commandeering nearly every spare moment of your free time, but overall it was good. The House Warden had slipped back into his usual not entirely self-destructive haughtiness, and you had tucked his subordinate’s betrayal into the deepest recesses of your mind in hopes you might one day just black it out entirely.

And then one morning you woke up and there were flowers on your doorstep.

At first, you genuinely thought it was a prank. Because they were white lilies, and lilies were toxic to cats. And obviously Grim had yowled at you immediately about how he was “NOT A CAT, HENCHMAN!” But you tossed the bouquet in the garbage anyways, just to be safe. Part of you figured that it might be Jade. He certainly seemed the type to dabble in poisoning house pets, and he went on enough nature walks that procuring some of those nifty little blossoms would be an easy feat. So you casually penned ‘Threaten Azul With Octopot Blackmail Until He Can Learn to Control His Demon Spawn’ into your planner and carried on with your day.

And then there were more flowers the next morning, and something cavernous and foreboding in your gut told you that this wasn’t Jade Leech. This time it was a pleasantly wrapped bouquet of mixed white and red carnations—all tuft-like and fluffy. There was a small square of cardstock tucked into the stems. Maybe there had been one in the lilies too, but you hadn’t even bothered to check before dunking them into the trashcan. The paper was embossed with something that looked a bit like an insignia—a teeny, round, sparrow made up of curling silver swirls and little, scratchy, tufts that you assumed were meant to be feathers. The real damning part of all of it though was the elaborate, cursive, N.L. tucked beneath the bird’s spread wings.

Ruh-roh.

“Huh? What are those?” Grimm yawned as he padded down the stairs on his teeny, black, paws.

You tossed the bouquet into the coat closet and slammed the door. “Nothing. Jade’s just trying to poison you again.”

Grim puffed up like a little lion. “You should poison him back! Or stab ‘em!”

“Right,” you nodded, walking bravely into the winter morning with no coat, because the evidence was with your coat, and you immediately wanted to shrivel up and die. “I’ll just do that then.”

The next morning, there was a knock at your door—bright and early. You cracked it open cautiously and peeked through the slit like a ghoul creeping out of its dark lair. It was a person you didn’t recognize, and you opened the door more fully.

“Can I help you…?”

“Yes!” the guy chirped. You realized then that he was wearing a delivery uniform. “I’m just here to drop these off for you,” he smiled, and pressed a bundle of daisies into your arms. “I guess it was noted in the delivery request that it wasn’t a certainty if the last orders had ended up with you or not.”

“Is that so,” you droned, trying not to sound like your soul was actively attempting to vacate your body. “Well. Thank you. Goodbye—”

“Oh!” he called, before you could retreat back into your hovel like a wounded animal. “There are a few more actually!” he said, pointing to another delivery man headed in your direction—weighed down under an entire armful’s worth of blooms. You couldn’t even make out the poor guy’s head beneath the forest of pale pinks and yellows consuming him.

“Right,” you nodded, horrified. “Of course. Anyways, is there a way I can go about returning these, or…?”

The poor dude being eaten alive by all those flowers just laughed good-naturedly and dumped the wagon’s worth of tulips, and camellias, and even more carnations at your feet. You could feel something in your jaw tick.

And then another pair of delivery men came sauntering over the hill and you wanted to scream.

That day at lunch, you felt like a convict in a lineup.

You were seated at Vil’s left, as was the norm, and you were having to actively fight the raw survival instinct tugging at every muscle in your body as it demanded that you flee from the room post haste. A part of you felt like the intuitive beauty would just know somehow. Like he could smell the goddamn flowers on you. You were practically vibrating out of your seat. Every time he brushed up against you, you’d jolt like you’d been electrocuted. All of the moments where he’d shift and his knee would bump against yours, or when he would reach for something just a little off center and his arm would tuck up against your side, or how he’d rest his hand on the table just close enough to yours that even the teeniest fidget would push your pinkies together. It was like the universe had decided that today you were going to be a lightning rod, and that it was oh so fun to just zap-zap-zap you endlessly.

“Are you feeling alright, Mon Coeur?” Rook called from his spot across the narrow table. “You look a bit grey.”

You grit your teeth, because Vil sitting less than a foot away or otherwise, no way would you be telling anything to this snitch. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“No. He’s right,” Vil asserted, stern, and turned to face you more fully. “You’ve been miserable from the moment you sat down. What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,” you tried again, and Vil’s eyes narrowed irritably at your bold-faced lie. He leaned closer, as if chastising you from three inches away instead of six would make any sort of difference. But then something odd flickered across his expression and you experienced the very distinctive and horrifying sensation of being marched to the gallows.

Vil reached out and the featherlight touch of his fingers brushed along the curve of your jaw and down your throat before settling heavily at your collar. He plucked a small, pink, petal from a fold in the fabric.

“What’s this?” he asked, with the inflection of someone who already knew perfectly well what ‘this’ was.

“I fell into a bush,” you replied, deadpan.

Silence.

“A bush, hmm?” he mused blandly, and rolled the petal around between his fingers.

Epel and Rook exchanged pointed glances.

“It was an ugly bush,” you added. Because, sure, it was a lie. And Vil clearly knew it was a lie. But maybe hurling around insults at Neige the bush would help.

Vil snorted, and thankfully it sounded more amused than enraged. The petal disappeared in a puff of dark, purple, smoke and he returned to poking at his salad and your posture in equal measure. Safe. For now.

That evening, you approached the only other person on campus that you could think of who would benefit more from helping you keep your horrible, little, secret than in just selling you out at the first opportunity.

“Epel, you lived on a farm,” you tried, conversational in perhaps the way a hostage may try to sound casual to avoid panicking the SWAT team listening in from just outside the door. “You know how plants work.”

He arched a lavender eyebrow at you.

“Yeah?”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” you chirped, steepling your fingers. “So, anyways. Can I get your help then. With a plant problem I’m having?”

“Uhm, sure?” he agreed, face scrunched up in bewilderment.

When you walked him into Ramshackle’s foyer, Epel made a noise like he was choking. You couldn’t blame him—shock aside, the petals floating around were becoming a real hazard.

“Where did these even come from?” he gawked.

“Neige,” you winced, scuffing your toes against the carpet. Or at least in the general vicinity of where you assumed the carpet was. The entire floor was blanketed in loose leaves and bits of ivy.

He whistled low under his breath, and something in his gaze went a little hazy—a little spooked. “When Vil finds out about this…”

“He won’t,” you declared, with as much determination as you could manage.

“He will,” Epel grumbled. He looked like he was having war flashbacks.

“If he does,” you sighed, defeated, “you might as well just shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

“The shotgun is back at grandma’s,” he mumbled, his pale blue eyes still clouded and very, very, faraway.

You blinked. “What.”

“What?”

“…Nothing. I just. Please,” you begged. “You have to help me.”

Epel seemed to take your pleas seriously at the very least (or maybe it was just his own sense of self-preservation kicking in), and he gently raised a finger to tap at his chin as he pondered. After a moment, he made a little ‘ah-ha’ noise and turned back to you with a firm nod.

“You ever lit a bonfire in a dumpster before?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. A third time.

“I,” you began, slow, “have never. Set a dumpster on fire.”

Epel reached out to thump you squarely on the shoulder. “Well, you’re gonna today.”

.

.

“What were you thinking?!” Crewel snarled at you, cracking his pointer across his palm.

You coughed, sending a cloud of garbage-and-petal-scented soot into the air of his otherwise very pristine office.

“I wasn’t?” you tried.

The alchemist looked like he was ready to put his head through the wall or maybe yours, but instead he just reached up to dig his fingers into his temples.

“Detention,” he snapped.

“Understandable,” you nodded—another wave of dusty, black, ash falling to the carpet beneath your feet.

.

.

And then all your arson was for naught, because the very next morning there was a fresh mountain of pink roses crowding your entryway.

You kicked them into the back of the coat closet and hurried off to class, making sure to double and triple check your clothes for any damning evidence before you did.

You made it all the way through the rest of the day without any other flower related nonsense, and maybe all that success had made you cocky, stupid. So when you realized you’d forgotten your little notebook full of reference numbers and stage cues for the Drama Club’s newest production, making a pitstop at Ramshackle only seemed sensible. And when Vil offered to walk you there and back, you agreed without any consideration for rationality.

You could just see the pointed rooftop of your dorm coming into view over the hill when your companion final spoke up.

“This path is ridiculously undermaintained,” he hummed. His purple gaze slid pointedly in your direction. “I suppose I can see how you were you so easily felled by a bush.”

“An ugly bush,” you repeated, just to see his lips quirk into a smug little smirk.

But then that satisfied expression froze on his face, and his mouth curled downwards into that venomous sneer of his that made each and every hair at the back of your neck stand on end.

Because standing in your doorway, a delicate bouquet of sunflowers and sweet peas tucked under his arm, was Neige LeBlanche. With that goddamn purple scarf wrapped around his neck.

“Oh! Hello!” he chirped, his doe eyes wrinkling at the corners as he smiled. “I was hoping I’d be able to catch you!” A fetching shade of pink bloomed across his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose, and he fidgeted nervously with the soft wrappings in his hands. “I was starting to think I had the wrong address…”

There was a steadily increasing pressure around the meat of your upper arm, and it took you a beat too long to realize that it was Vil and his ever-tightening vice grip and not just your clothes trying to strangle you. You could feel the blunt crescents of his fingernails digging into the fabric of your coat—sharp little pinpricks that didn’t exactly hurt or anything, but reminded you just a little too much of a big cat flexing its claws before it pounced.

Neige seemed to notice his one-sided nemesis for the first time, and his expression lit with genuine mirth.

“Oh! Vil! Hello to you too!” he beamed, a merry laugh working its way past his lips. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other! Though if you both go to Night Raven I suppose that makes sense…” He mused.

“Of course,” Vil ground out past his gnashing canines, with about as much civility as you were expecting. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

At this inquiry, Neige went pink all over again—from the tip of his gently pointed chin to the edges of his neatly styled fringe. He shifted nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet and his fingers clenched into the velvet bow of the bouquet. When he spoke up again, he was addressing you and you alone.

“I, uhm…” he spluttered. “Well, I… I was worried you weren’t getting any of my flowers, because I never heard anything back from you. Not that I was expecting you to thank me or anything!” he hurriedly rushed out. “I just—Ah. Well… I-I’ve never really done this sort of thing before, and I wanted to make sure I was doing it right, and Dominic said that if you weren’t responding then maybe I should be doing this in person, so… I…” he trailed off, his face practically glowing with the crimson heat radiating off his cheeks.  

“You never actually gave me any way to respond,” you tried (which was entirely true), aiming for as middle-of-the-road as possible. Clearly it wasn’t neutral enough, because Vil’s glower swiveled to you and became a tangible force against your skin.

“Oh!” Neige gasped. “Oh my goodness! You’re right!”

Maybe that would be the end of it. Maybe he’d be like you, and wind up so encumbered by his own embarrassment that he’d have no other choice but to run away.

But instead, he soldiered on.

“Well…” the brunette murmured, clearly fighting an intense urge to fidget. “I was wondering then, if I—if you—if we—could. If you want to—”

This poor, lost, boy was so sweet and endearing. And as much as you could not comprehend how saving him One Time in a crowded mall had turned into weeks of pining and near hero worship, you felt for the dude. And you felt even worse knowing that you were going to have to absolutely cut him down if you wanted any hope of coming out of this alive with an even marginally stable Vil at your side. Neige was kind, but Vil was totally not the object of your miserable, unrequited, affections your friend. And if you had to sacrifice Squirrel-Sweater-Boy and his crush to keep the House Warden from falling into another spiral of self-flagellation and despair, then so be it.

“A-Actually!” you cut in as fast as you could. “I was just…”

Your eyes flickered to Vil, panicked, and you hoped he wouldn’t eviscerate you for this.

You placed a hand atop the one he’d wrapped around your arm and gave it a gentle, blatant, squeeze as you leaned heavily into his side. “The two of us were just planning on going somewhere! Together!” You shot him a pointed look that you prayed he’d be able to interpret past the veil of red fury muddling his gaze. “Weren’t we?”

“Oh! Like a friendship outing!” Neige chirped, and clapping his hands together enthusiastically. You wilted. “Do you mind if I come along too then? I’d really love to spend more time with you if I can, but obviously I don’t want to step over any of your preexisting plans! I’d love to be able to hang out with Vil again too! It could be like a field trip!”

Your stomach dropped, and you were genuinely worried for a moment that you were going to have to just honest-to-God turn around and book it before you could be indicted as an accessory to murder.

But then the twisting resentment melted from Vil’s face and the hand at your shoulder snuck around your back to settle firmly at your hip. He hauled you flush against his side and you barely managed to swallow your squeak.

“No, actually,” Vil crooned, a wickedly smug grin splitting his crimson lips. “Together, as in together. Partners,” he continued, perfectly chipper. “Involved. Entangled. Romantically linked. Whatever you’d like to call it.”

Neige’s expression immediately fell into something terribly dejected, before bouncing almost just as fast into mortification.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “I had no idea! If I had known, I—I mean, I would never have tried to—to—Oh, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable!” he rambled, so red and embarrassed that you were back to feeling bad for him all over again. “Please forgive me for overstepping!”

“I suppose,” Vil sighed, dramatic. And you were officially done feeling bad for him and all his crippling self-worth issues. He turned to you with this demure little pout that you just knew he’d probably had to practice in front of a mirror at some point. “And how about you, darling? Are you feeling magnanimous this afternoon?”

“You’re forgiven,” you grit out, and there was bit of a terrible moment where Neige clearly assumed your spiraling vitriol was aimed at him and not the smug bastard pinning you to his side.

“Th-Thank you!” he squeaked, before darting forward to press the bouquet into Vil’s hands. “Here! Have these! As a—As an apology bouquet instead of a, well…” He buried his face into the plush fabric of his scarf and took a very long, very loud, breath. As if he was trying to center himself. “Anyways! I should be—I’ll get going then! Enjoy your date!”

And then Neige was scurrying off as fast as his legs could carry him, and Vil smirked proudly throughout the entire retreat and beyond. The sunflowers sat in his hands like a trophy.

You took a moment to remind yourself that you were not always a terrible person, and that surely something like this was outweighed in the grand scheme of things by all the Overblots you’d stopped, and how many murders you’d prevented. You sighed, bone deep and weary, and were just about to start making the last leg of the trek into your dorm when Vil pulled you in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” you asked, confused. “We still need to get my notebook for the club meeting, and—”

“I thought you just said something about me taking you out for the evening,” he interrupted, arching a finely shaped brow. “Or did you already forget.”

“But that was…” you trailed off, hesitant. Something warm and eager swirled in your belly, and you tamped it down as fast you could. There was no way he meant what your fluttering pulse was assuming he’d meant. I mean, you were ‘the potato.’ That’s it. “You don’t have to feel like you need to take me somewhere. I know that was just…”

Vil scoffed. “Oh, please. I assumed you knew me better than that. Do I seem like the sort of person who would be willing to fake a relationship to avoid any kind of fallout—within the media or otherwise?”

“…No?” you said after a moment.

His hand flexed at your waist. “Correct. Now. Let’s get going. We’ll stop at my dorm first—you’re not going out dressed like that.”

The world was tilting on its axis. Hell had frozen over. Deuce had aced an exam.

“Are you—did you just ask me out?” you gaped.

Vil sighed. “Technically, you asked me. Or, well, demanded.”

“Oh,” you rasped, dazed. “I guess I did.”

And so began the journey back to Pomefiore. Or, well, Vil’s journey. You were just being carted along like a useless sack of vegetables. Your head was spinning, the rest of you barely able to catch up to its frantic swirling. Amidst all your emotional vertigo, you did catch Vil glaring frostily down at the bouquet in his hands. You wondered idly why he didn’t just throw it to the side, and then remembered that ah yes. A trophy.

“Sunflowers,” Vil scoffed under his breath, and the contempt there helped ground you back in reality.

“What’s wrong with sunflowers?” you asked in a huff, no longer feeling the need to cater to his bruised pride now that he was so obviously riding high on a wave of self-satisfied vindication.

He snorted. “You clearly have no grasp on floriography.”

“And you do?”

“What exactly do you think poisons are made of? Or most natural cosmetics?”

You sighed. “Fine. Then if sunflowers are so awful, what kind of flowers would you give me?”

“Roses, naturally. Scarlet Sage.” His lips quirked. “Coriander.”

“Coriander isn’t a flower. It’s what you cook with,” you sniffed, indignant. “Sage too!”

Vil laughed under his breath and reached out to take your hand, threading your fingers through his. You felt warmth spread from your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears, and you hoped more than anything that your palm wasn’t too sweaty.

“Is that so?” he hummed, amused.

“Well what do they mean then?” you conceded, that furious heat still working its way along your skin.

He glanced down at you out of the corner of his charcoal-lined eyes—the purple there brilliantly sharp and fond. He gave your hand another firm squeeze.

“I suppose you’ll just have to do your best to figure that out.”

.

.

.

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🌸FLOWERS🌸

White Lilies = Virginity, Purity, Heavenly Red Carnations  = ‘Alas for my poor heart, my heart aches,’ deep romantic love White Carnations = Innocence, pure love, sweet love Daisies = Innocence, Loyal love Ivy = Affection, Friendship, Fidelity Pink Camelias = Longing For You Pink Rose = Happiness; innocent romantic love Yellow Tulip = Sunshine in your smile; hopeless love Sweet Pea = kindheartedness, Blissful pleasures Sunflower = Adoration; Pure Thoughts

Red Rose = Love, ‘I love you’ Scarlet Sage = Forever Mine Coriandor = Lust

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TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[bonesy-doodles]

Have you thought about/are you planning on doing other ghoul designs too? I'd love to see Ifrit, Air, Omega, ect. in your style!

I have thought a bit about the other ghouls!!! The version of the Ministry I’m developing for lore is where all of the Papas are alive, the first three just retired, where all the Ghouls still chilling at the Ministry.

Here’s a little doodle of Phil without his helmet I did while working on the others (as he’s also a multighoul like Swiss)!

I know for a fact that I want Omega to be very deep space vibes, maybe eyes of a black hole. I’m also considering Alpha being a blue fire ghoul as to me, Alpha and Omega are like “prime elemental ghouls” like the peak of their elements and abilities. Blue is the hottest fire, and deep space is horrifyingly beautiful!

For Ifrit, I don’t have a specific idea just yet as I want visual input and help from my wife Warden who is Egyptian and has more insight on Ifrit and Islam than me, so Ifrit’s design will most likely be a group effort between me and him!

Onto Air, I mention in my giant yap post in the air ghoul section that Air has feathered wings compared to the usual bat wings! I also imagine him to possibly be on the more yellow side of the air ghoul color palette.

Oh, and then there’s Earth. Earth’s mammal reference is giving bear and moose in my head. Earth also gives me intense like, cryptid Bigfoot vibes, even more so than Mountain.

Hopefully will get to drawing all of them. I want all of the designs to go into my character design portfolio so they are all very important to me.

[wanderinggrizzly]

Just saw the Dragon Age Veilguard trailer and I……..

It’s been ten years since Inquisition. Ten years of development on the game and changes in the studio and EA pushing for new game directions, lead artists and designers leaving the company. BioWare has been on thin ice for so long, so precariously balanced with their fans who are ready to abandon the entire company that keeps misinterpreting what people actually want. So then today we get this Veilguard trailer. What was that? I mean this literally, what IS this game going to be? We dropped the Dreadwolf name and swapped it for Veilguard. Changes the tone already. People are comparing the new vibes to Suicide Squad (which for dragon age lore and Wardens isn’t totally out of place, albeit a different mood), and comparing the departure from the story driven RPG to what happened with Arkane Studios and Redfall (i.e. publisher EA forcing story driven single player RPG company to make a multiplayer online live service shooter).

The trailer was dogshit. People are comparing it to Borderlands, Fortnite, mobile games, Suicide Squad. And all those comparisons are totally accurate. What is this game going to be? Ten years of development. Ten years of fans of the series waiting for this grand conclusion to an apocalyptic world(s) event. Ten years waiting to take on actual gods combatting undead twisted demons and ghouls and darkspawn.

[octopus-punching-union]

Thoughts on second read of Obscuary chapter. (Roughly chronological this time)

Darkwick has a general medical center — so Mortkranken isn't the only medical care on campus, regardless of what Yuri might say

The Gala happens in August, which means the end of the school year is in August, which means there is basically no break between the school years. (Do they have breaks at Darkwick? If they do, are the ghouls allowed to leave? Probably not.)

Moby is barely even trying to hide that Darkwick sees Lyca primarily as a research subject (and MC as his "warden")

Darkwick doesn't trust Subaru anymore? MC asks if Subaru wouldn't be a better mentor, and Moby's like nope but doesn't explain

Kinda sus that the flashback repeats Haku's "have I ever lied to you" line

What is the "most severe form of disciplinary action"? In Hotarubi chapter, Lyca and Subaru imply that Darkwick planned to kill Lyca if he was, in fact, guilty of murder. Are they going around secretly executing people?

Haku's like "I'm well aware." Does he know someone who was punished this way? (I've been thinking for a while that he's the spy, but that his motivation is trying to protect someone, possibly Rui. I feel like this is another point in that direction.)

Aww, Lyca makes MC sit down when she gets upset remembering the anomaly that cursed her. What a sweetheart.

If the moon is always a crescent in Obscuary, does that mean Lyca doesn't have to worry about transforming if he stays there during the full moon?

...did Rui seriously get cursed by hitting on a Reaper?

Hmm is it just me, or does Subaru not look super thrilled when Lyca says that he's already made a new friend?

Lyca and Rui's reactions to MC saying that she wants to use the Gala to get help breaking her curse — Lyca looks upset (didn't know she was cursed), Rui smiles (proud of his curse twin being proactive)

Rui making Lyca actually work at the bar but telling MC to just relax

Why is Nicolas being so shady about other people (particularly MC) being at the bar?

Benkei only started working at the campus store recently and immediately arranged to start selling anomalous medicine. Maybe he was a former student?

Aww, Lyca takes afternoon naps.

Rui says that going to the basement to make liquor is "always a workout"... and that there are freaky looking plants writhing around down there..... and he wouldn't recommend it unless you're into that kind of thing......... are you keeping a tentacle monster in the basement, Rui???

Towa says that the tree is sick because she's not getting enough love. Possibly she is reacting to the overall tension on campus? Or maybe more people used to be able to see her, but something has happened and they can't? Maybe it's a response to the general students leaving Jabberwock? (Is her hill in Jabberwock or in its own area?)

On first read, I thought maybe Rui was previously in Ultio, since he knew about the prison. Now I think he was held in that prison at some point.

Towa says that Edward doesn't understand love... but he doesn't give a crap about the dog, he's only looking for it for Haru. (Towa loves Haru confirmed?)

Taiga remembers Ed, even though it's been a while since they've seen each other. Is his bad memory a recent thing, where he only has trouble remembering people he's recently met?

What does this mean? Taiga can (literally or figuratively?) see some kind of danger Ritsu is unaware of?

Lyca's twitchy ears. So cute...

Darkwick supposedly doesn't know much about MC's curse, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if they're letting it run its course just to study it. If MC wasn't useful as an inspector, she would probably be in a lab or a cell somewhere.

Back on the mission, after discovering that the Barometz is "friendly" — I wonder how much of the previous animosity between ghouls and inspectors was due to stuff like this. Trying to let a peaceful anomaly be.

In parts of the comic scene, Lyca looks like he's running on all fours. Cuuuuute

Earlier, Rui said that Ed was basically on house arrest. Towards the end of the chapter, Moby calls it a "self-imposed confinement". I don't really trust anything Moby says at this point...

Ed clearly knows more about anomalies than Darkwick does... so they're not asking him, or he's not complying, or they're not listening to him. Why is he at Darkwick anyway? I can't see what he's getting out of this. Is he being detained?

Rui's conversation at the end — honestly, I can see it. His comments about not liking hard work or not reaching out to help people — throughout the whole chapter, he only seems to enjoy helping MC. He's kinda irritated with Lyca and Ed for almost the entire chapter. All of the housework and stuff he does is because no one else will do it, and he literally can't sleep so he's probably bored out of his mind. He chose to start the bar, so he probably enjoys that... but maybe he started do it partly to have more people to talk to. I think the isolation is getting to him and he's starting to feel less "human", in a sense, and detached from society. I think he's starting to warm up to Lyca near the end, at least?

[dreadfutures]

Blue's DA4 Screenshot Binge Pt. 3

CAMEOS CAMEOS CAMEOS

I just wanna say FUCK YES i was right, we get everyone from Tevinter Nights

Evka Ivo - Tevinter Nights, Short Stories, The Missing

Fighting against Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain with other Wardens: that there in the center with her buns and her hammer is EVKA. I assume we may have also seen Antoine but I didn't really see an archer anywhere.

They are my favorite and I demand more fics with them.

Irelin - Tevinter Nights, Short Stories, The Missing

Our favorite shape shifting Veil Jumper with DAI's June vallaslin is back:

ANDARATEIA CANTORI/VIAGO DE RIVA - Tevinter Nights, Short Stories, The Missing

God I would have rioted if we didn't get them. I am pretty sure big haired elf crow here is Teia, and mustachio'd crow is Vi.

Mourn Watch - Tevinter Nights

I really wonder if the two we see in Emmrich's shot are Audric and Myrna <3 (pleased I want to hug audric so badly pleeeease)

MOMIGAN

I just want to say I never doubted Morrigan would be in DA4, I figured since she was going to be a smaller role she might have fewer lines and not need to be hired super early like when she was first asked and said she hadn't been asked yet.

Mom cut her hair into a respectable A-line cut, and I think her hair is graying and she has mouth creases ;w; she has never looked more beautiful to me. Rocking her same arm sleeve, wrist feather, necklace... and her mother's helmet.

People were confused at first, thinking it was her sister, Yavana, from Those Who Sleep - who wears a dragon skull as her helmet in a very similar style!

But it's Morrigan <3

I'm going to make a few more guesses:

Zara Renata?

At the end of Wigmaker Job, Magister Zara Renata, a blood mage Venatori Magister who uses her slaves to keep herself perpetually beautiful, implies she's going to lure Lucanis in and destroy him. Maybe she's the one he's fighting against here:

They are in distinctly Tevinter ruins I think, and it looks like maybe Teia? is on the stairs.

Felassan? Please? God? For me? FOR MJ???

In a nest of some kind, with these sacks of white growth that seem to be consuming corpses, there are tentacles wrapped around an elf who is not looking so hot.

Their face is streaked with dark veins like a ghoul. They're wearing some kind of armor - seems like it might have triangles on it, perhaps a Veil Jumper. Their hair is pulled back sharply with a tight buzz on the sides.

Please, god? Please? My husband?

But also: concept art Solas, as much as I hate white guys with dreads:

My money remains on Felassan.