kind of vague spoilers but

DA:I TRESPASSER SPOILERS BEYOND. YE BE WARNED.

I’ve successfully avoided major spoilers for Trespasser so far, except for one but it’s alright because I kind of found it inevitable and it was already my headcanon for my inquisitor anyways so thats fine anyway it’s the (seriously stop reading if you are avoiding all spoilers for Trespasser) fact that the Inquisitor loses their arm. And I’m losing my shit about it. In a good way. In an excellent way. In the best possible way.

Prosthetics, you guys. So many different kinds of prosthetics.

Mages with runes etched in to their hands, with focusing crystals embedded in to knuckles, with veins of lyrium literally at their fingertips.

Knight Enchanters whose Spirit Hilt is built directly in to their prosthetic. Who trained for hours and hours under the mantra of This blade is an extension of you. It is part of your body. It is part of your soul. Knight Enchanters who can now embrace that truth more literally, who modify their Spirit Hilt so that it runs the length of their prosthetic. So that the magic can come sweeping out in different shapes or forms–a slash of light running alongside their arm, a burst of energy in the form of a repelling shield, or the original swath of magic like a sword sprouting from their body.

Rift Mages who create a prosthetic of their own out of latent sympathetic magic. The powers of the Fade still whisper to them, still catch around their arm where flesh used to be in swirls and eddies, trying to embody what once was there, what memory still holds in fine detail. Rift Mages who have temporary prosthetics made out of condensed magic. Who cast Stone Fist quite literally now as their formed hand goes rocketing forward. Rift Mages who can curry the favor of small wisps and delicate spirits that will hover around their arm and perhaps hold a thing or two until it is needed.

Necromancers who stride in to battle and capture the spirit of fallen enemies in order to create an ethereal prosthetic that’s faster and stronger than any human hand. Raising the dead to guard their left flank because they are not so readily able to defend it now. Necromancers who know exactly what a raised corpse is capable of depending on its state of decay, on what it still has, on what it is missing–and who know exactly how much they are still capable of.

Rogues with weapons built in to their forearms. Crossbows easily winched and fired. Static hands that can hold a bow steady.

Artificers who well know how to make, and maintain an articulated prosthetic–just as delicate as any one of their carefully spun traps. Artificers who embed their prosthetics with traps, who make little compartments full of dangerous things. Rogues who rig their prosthetics as a last resort, leaving it behind to explode and rain hell on unsuspecting enemies.

Assassins who hide deadly poisons in the spiked fingertips of their prosthetics. Who store terrible venoms in small vials carefully slotted in to the thing. Assassins who use the fact that their enemies will underestimate the false hand–see it as a weakness and a liability. Assassins who play that to their advantage, use it to strike when it’s least expected. Assassins with retractible blades hidden in the wrist in such a way that would make Ezio envious.

Tempest rogues who coat their arrows with concoctions embedded in their arms. Who can release compressed smoke from hidden compartments. Fast. Chaotic. Pulling one alchemical mystery after the next out of thin air, rigging their prosthetics like the Artificers do–except this one explodes with fire and ice and fury.

Warriors with heavy-wrough prosthetics to suit their more aggressive fighting style.

Champions who have shields latched on to their arm–quick release built in, in case of emergencies. Who can throw their entire body in to a shield blow, because the shield is part of them now. Champions with prosthetics of gilded silver and gold that can be raised, gleaming to catch the light and inspire defiance in the face of overwhelming odds. Champions with prosthetics that are essentially an extension of their armor, throwing their arm forward to take the blow that would have slain a friend, and continuing fearlessly where their flesh would’ve other wise been torn asunder.

Reavers with prosthetics embedded with spikes. With rivulets carved so that streams of blood flow along it with grotesque ease. Reavers with prostetics permenantly stained with the blood of each enemy felled, who can work themselves in to the beginning of a frenzy by scenting the blood that has seeped so deeply in to the limb. Reavers who charge on ever further, ever more enraged if the prosthetic is damaged–their fury only fueled by its destruction.

Templars who–like mages–have lyrium imbued in to their prosthetic, and may call upon it when it is needed. Templars who have etched their crest or passage from the Chant in to their new limb. Templars who summon the Wrath of Heaven with their glowing prosthetic, lifting it to the air as the lyrium in it burns and sizzles, and then slamming it down with the pillar of light like the fist of the Maker himself. 

SO MUCH ROOM FOR CREATIVITY HOLY SHIT.

anonymous asked:

Can you tell me abit about ghost lights? I've seen a bunch of your posts about it and I'm really interested but I don't really know much about it ;; please inform me!❤ Also you're amazing and I love your style, you're a huge inspiration! Stay golden✨

let’s see… ghost lights actually was just a short completed one shot (i call it prototype now) i did in early 2015. this is going to be a bit personal, but i feel i should add it

when i first started to take medications i had really vivid dreams. i often woke up and didn’t know where i am, and i was completely without orientation for a while after, still kinda stuck in that dream? i never dreamed of nice things, except for this one time. it was sad but also so so beautiful

the dream was like this: two boys walked down a dark forest path and the longer they walked the more they lost themselves and then… they remembered their shared past, and that they were closely connected. but not quiet human. when they returned they were so sad, as if parts of themselves were missing, but they wouldn’t really know why anymore. they just felt even closer to each other.

i just wanted to show others what i saw? so i drew it, and decided to print it. and the feedback was so positive i was overwhelmed ;; in the best way. i grew really fond of the characters, too…

so i decided to tell their whole story!! and that’s what i’ve been working on the last months. plot wise it got pretty complex and ngl i put even more stuff of my nightmares in it

it’s a story about two best friends who slowly discover more about themselves. strange things begin to happen in their life, or better said, happened all their life… and while they get closer and closer, they start to visit a place of their past in their dreams together, but would forget it once they wake up. the more they discover and actually remember the more their past comes haunting them, not only in dreams… they miiight fall in love, too. or might already be in love for a very long time. who knows! not me (it’s me). shit this is super vague sjdfhs

soo… of course i chose to tell this story as gentle as possible, but it’s not as cute as you might think even if it’s drawn by me ;; i hope to surprise you a bit with it!

i will upload the whole prototype in the next days on tapastic. and then i will begin to post completed scenes of the new, actual story which is in the making. 🌸 have some wips~

Forces of Nature

As someone who is really clumsy even with his super speed, which now makes it easier to hide his uncoordinated nature, Barry understands feeling like the forces of nature are working against you. Gravity somehow always seems to work a little differently for you right when your climbing stairs. The weather which was clear and beautiful just moments before, suddenly turns fierce and rainy, without weather wizard’s help. Time moves slow only when you want it to speed up, which is a force of nature that has become down right mutinous since Barry got his speed if he’s being honest. 

All of these rich complex forces all seem to work against Barry all the time. He had thought finally, when the lightning connected him to this mysterious force of nature known as speed he had finally found an alley. Though, that understanding of the speed force got hazier and hazier with each not so nice speedster encounter. Sometimes he’d wonder if maybe he was making the speed force angry but forces of nature didn’t really play favourites. 

At least he didn’t think so. Though Eobard seemed to think the exact opposite. He had seemed convinced that Barry was the favourite. Leading partly to his hatred of Barry. Which always confused Barry because the speed force gave Eobard his speed too. If he really was the favourite why would this force of nature create his greatest sorrow? Though quantifying the way something so complex and mysterious thought was probably exactly where Barry was misstepping. He was trying to understand something not human with human understanding. 

It was all he had though. Simple human understanding. Also, what else did he have to do floating around aimlessly in the speed force? He doesn’t remember exactly what brought him to be part of the speed force in such a manner, probably some earth ending tragedy and if he didn’t sacrifice himself all would be lost. It doesn’t really matter now though, nothing really does when your basically dead. 

Sometimes he’ll see glimpses of Wally running in his old red suit. Which brought him great joy.

The ones with Iris laughing with dad, no ring, no new man, but happy all the same had made his chest ache the first few times but than he’d see the past. How hard everything with Iris had been. How every step of the way something blocked their path. It was as invisible as the gravity that betrayed him when he walked or rather tripped, but there all the same. Looking back on the events he began to see a string connecting them all but couldn’t quite pull it hard enough to reveal its source. Every time he really tried to figure it out the embodiment of his mom would appear and lead him down an endless rabbit hole. 

She wouldn’t stay for long leaving with a simple, “I don’t want you to lose yourself here Barry. One day you’ll go back. You have things to do still.”

Barry finally fed up with that line yelled back, “What?! What do I have to do? You took me, you told me I needed to rest but this isn’t resting… its… its… nothing. I can’t take this any longer! I need something!”

Stopping in her retreat the image of his mother, the speed force borrowing her face turns back to Barry and nods, “How about a rescue then? Run, run through the vastness of this place and find someone who isn’t us.”

“Is it another speedster?” Barry asks hoping to at least get some kinds of clue out of this fortune cookie.

The image of his mom shimmers and shifts until the familiar image of captain cold is looking at Barry. Then he fades to nothingness but a voice rings out around Barry not quite Len’s but similar, “The ying to your yang, the sam to your frodo, the spock to your kirk… not dead, not yet. Lost in an explosion of time. Time and I are often at odds for I control the speed in which he moves but mess with him and a monster I shall be. So, when captain cold acted well my hands were tied I cradled him, protected him from time’s escape. Find him and you can both return home.”

Barry felt a little like he was a mouse caught by a cat who was only playing with him but he nods all the same. “Okay… run until I find Snart. Got it…” Except there was no where really to run too. The speed force was as much of thing as it was not. Heaving a loud heavy sigh he gets into a ready position and then goes. As he runs he yells periodically hoping to illicit a reply either from Captain Cold or the speed force again. 

“YOO HOO! Is anybody there? I’m a real person not a hallucination. If you are too, say something back…. MARCO”

@icexandxcool

Sorry again for this ridiculous amount of posts about Lars I just get attached to characters way too quickly and intensely and I’m??? so proud of him??? I wanted him to get positive character development for so long and I feel Blessed™

anonymous asked:

I'm a little late to the party, but how come Bahare didn't know of the Nina incident? I mean, I think everyone who watched anime heard of it at least once. I knew of it before I got into FMA (this one saved me from one heartbreak. Instead I only got a shitload of pain, but still)

[[BAHARE DON’T LOOK]]

ahah :D Bahare has this kind of skill to manage to avoid spoilers completely! She’s quite amazing to that! (I’ve spammed her dash with so much stuff, like hxh or fma, and she didn’t know anything about either before getting into it herself. She thought Al was a robot, I mean. I mean really.)

It’s true tho that the Nina’s incident is probably the worst kept secret of the fandom with what happens to Hughes (she knows about this one tho, she couldn’t run away from that, she just doesn’t know how it happens) so i’m quite impressed she never knew about it before. (also she said she knew another spoiler and considering she follows me i think i know which one it is…. Oops.)

But man being prepared into it must be  a good thing in a way. (I watched it ten years ago, i didn’t have fandom to tell me it was gonna be pain, i suffered). Still hurt tho, I feel you o(-(

But ye otherwise, Bahare is not ready, she doesn’t know much about the manga (again she knows only two spoilers)  soo it’s gonna be a fun ride to see! ;O 

3

Inktober Day 28

I was wondering why there was so little fan art of Grillby until I tried drawing him. The guy’s hard to draw >:U!

Anywho, just some Hotland thoughts and headcanons c:
I never really thought about it before, but Grillby is a pretty mysterious guy. We really don’t know much about him, like why he’s living in such a cold place, or if he has any other family members. I want to know more about this guy!

An Untimely Confession


Pairing: Nalu

Rating: K+

Summary: There was no happiness. No cute questioning of what he had just said. And in an act that would never ever leave Natsu’s worst memories, she gently withdrew her hand from him, holding it close to herself. Like he had hurt her. This was not how it was supposed to go.

Genre: Angst and Romance

Notes: For @nothing-but-fairytail who really needed some Nalu angst. Thank you for all those kind words and your patience. I hope you enjoy this!

Warning: Vague spoilers for the Alvarez war. 


It was such a glorious feeling, and Natsu did his best to commit it to memory.

The war was over.

All around he could hear cheers, ones that he would have otherwise led in terms of sheer noise and enthusiasm. Only this time, there was something else he was paying more attention to.

Someone else.

He watched as Lucy dropped to her knees, looking towards the sky - the most gentle of smiles gracing her features, even as she panted from her previous magical efforts.

Natsu was reminded once more of just how close he had come to losing her forever, but this time it didn’t bring as much pain and guilt, as it did relief and hope.

Because none of it had happened.

She was safe. Alive.

Smiling.

Natsu walked over and sat next to her, taking in the sight that she was - beautiful.

So goddamn beautiful.

Her messed up hair, her scarred body, and all her imperfections only made her glow more. He was so thankful for her - for this best friend he was so at ease with, who was so at ease with him. Someone who had such unwavering trust and faith in him. Someone who hadn’t doubted his intentions ever, no matter what his shape or form and the person because of whom he was still alive and breathing.

He was so grateful. And he really wanted to let her know.

He had to.

Lucy’s eyes snapped open when he gently took hold of her hand. Seeing that it was him, she smiled softly, her exhaustion not dimming the happiness in it in the least.

Natsu returned the smile, as he placed her hand on his bare chest. Right over his beating heart.

Taking her soft blush and slightly flustered expression as his cue, he finally said it, pouring all his affection, pride and gratitude in one simple phrase -

“I love you.”

It was a soft spoken confession, his voice deep and husky - it was something only for her to hear after all - and he gently brushed his thumb over her hand, waiting for her response.

His heartbeat picked up as he watched her expression change.

The smile she wore fell faster that he’d ever seen, before taking away with it her soft blush. Her eyes widened, not with surprise but with shock as her shoulders sagged and she teared up.

There was no happiness. No cute questioning of what he had just said. And in an act that would never ever leave Natsu’s worst memories, she gently withdrew her hand from him, holding it close to herself.

Like he had hurt her.

The joyful cheers were now barely audible to Natsu, as he felt his heart throb when she turned away from him, got up and walked away.

Leaving him seated where he was, all alone.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Sure, maybe he was kind of expecting reciprocation, but even if she were to shoot him down, he knew she would do it with much care and tenderness.

But there she was, walking away, holding herself as though afraid. And that’s when it hit Natsu - she really was.

She hadn’t ever been so visibly scared of him. Not even when she had faced off against END to save him, despite the very likely chance that she could have died.

And yet this…

Natsu slammed a fist to the ground, smothering a choked sob, ignoring how it hurt. No, his heart bled for Lucy, and with guilt, knowing he had somehow hurt her.

And what his confession could now do to what they shared.

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The new Bitch Planet is making me FEEL THINGS.