#gif warning
An excerpt of A Guide to False Visions : Illuionsary Magic by Sonja Rysti.
….Oh course, the first spell most illusionists master is making something look like another. It’s a simple thing to make a flower look like a weed, or a brick look like a rock. With practice an illusionist can glamour the view out of a window from rain to shine. A talented one can glamour themselves, and thus vanity runs rampant in followers of the lost art. There is a freedom in it, but all mages are too aware and remember that you cannot change the core of the thing with the illusion. The flower is still a flower, the brick is still a brick, and the day is still rainy.
And yet.
At what point does illusion become truth? What we take for truth is what we experience with our senses. By its nature Illusionary magics change how items are perceived.
This is what makes the magic so dangerous. It is not merely the destruction that we can evoke, much like conjury and thamauturgy, in the physical sense. It is too easy to play tricks on the mind, to haunt a person to madness.
Just found out Joy has not seen The Mummy, not sure how to process this.
To make matters wors, I’ve seen the Tom Cruise one.
Mothman may be about to divorce me.
I threw up in my mouth a little.
Listen, it’s not my fault. I tried watching it two times on two separate international flights and fell asleep both times and nothing compares to the wild fever dream version that exists in my head through that experience and fandom.
Also, I was flying to see you. So technically, if you think about it, this is your fault.
Dear Joy, meet Rick O'Connell, the first time I question if I was only into women.
Dear Joy, meet Evelyn Carnahan, someone who helped me learn I was into woman with big hats.
Dear Joy, meet Imhotep, someone who made me think “huh, maybe monster fucking might be fun.”
Hgskl. Valid.
You also didn’t need to sell me on watching it. I’m all for it, I’m just lazy
Once upon a time…
It’s Day 3 now and I still haven’t done day 1. WHATEVER. I felt compelled to get this one done, and it’s dedicated to @xiz0rand@dreadwolfiscoming. This is what can happen if you make art that gives me FEELS.
“Hawke.”
His own name is the first thing he hears after the sundering. He had been left alone in the darkness, but now there is light and familiar faces. There are tears then. Shouts. A wail. Hawke hears it, but feels nothing. It’s too late. He was taken and broken.
It’s Fenris who leads their final charge through the Gallows that day. Hawke follows because there is no better way. None of the people he once called friends can bear to look at him. Hawke knows he makes them uncomfortable now. He knows, but does not care.
When it is over, they flee the Gallows. There, on the docks, there is a hurried talk of what they should do with Hawke now. It isn’t safe for any of them, especially not the Champion, broken as he is. When one suggests putting him to the knife, chaos erupts. Hawke watches and doesn’t flinch. He knows he once told them he’d rather die than become Tranquil. But now he does not feel that conviction.
Before the argument even ends, Fenris takes him by the hand and pulls him away.
“Where are you taking him?” Varric demands. His voice had been the loudest in speaking out against Hawke’s killing.
“Does it matter?” Fenris hisses. He had remained silent while the others fought. Now, his gauntlet is sticky with Templar blood and the tips dig into Hawke’s hand. “Do not follow us.”
This is beautiful and I’m glad it didn’t end the way I initially worried it would.
…just remember this conversation which happened 4,467 pages earlier:
Ouch.
[ID: The original image is of a golden retriever dog protecting and cuddling its puppy under its front two paws. The reblog is of an outstretched hand that holds a poorly photoshopped plant out to the veiwer. /End ID].