#but this is perhaps less so

[picturesfromperryhell]

diogenes moment

[mythalism]

girls when they remember that tevinter nights reveals that

1. solas can kill people in their sleep, large groups of people all at once, including dwarves, by giving them dreams so horrifying they bleed out of their ears and die

2. he has a massive network of spies and agents that do his bidding across all of thedas and speak about him with reverence like a true god. one blesses a fellow fallen elf by saying “the dread wolf guide your soul to peace, brother”

3. solas’s dread wolf form looks like a combination of a pride demon, a wolf, and a dragon, “lupine in appearance but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon” and he can fly around the fade on “wings of fire” that disperse into an army of demons/spirits

4. he shows up in this form to terrorize a group of mortalitasi who were binding spirits for a ritual, and says “YOU MEDDLE PAST YOUR UNDERSTANDING, FOOLISH MORTAL MAGES, AND IN DOING SO, YOU THREATEN ALL CREATION. YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED. FROM THIS MOMENT, SHOULD YOU EVER BIND A SPIRIT, THEN YOUR LIFE IS MINE.”

[infernal-lamb]

"No, Lamb, I do not fear Him. I do not fear you sending me to Him. Narinder and I will always meet, it is but the natural order of things, for War will always bring Death its harvest."

had another go at Shamura again....and just a little chat between them and the Lamb :) Decided to give Shamura a sickle for fun....to match with Narinder's scythe....just some silly agrarian tools of death!

[uncanny-tranny]

I think it's so relatable to see trans women and transfem and generally people who no longer have a testosterone-dominant system describing what it was like to have a testosterone-dominant system. I find that often, when they talk about being angry, depressed, irate, or just irritable, I relate because that was me before I went on testosterone. I was so fucking angry and irate and genuinely unpleasant to exist around because I didn't have testosterone.

See, I think instead of estrogen or testosterone being the "bad, angry" hormone, it's more like... of course trans people who need hormones are going to be unpleasant before getting hormones - both your body and your brain require that you have a certain level of hormone balance. Of course somebody like me was fucking furious all the time, the brain does weird shit when its needs aren't fulfilled!

This isn't about criticizing any one group of trans people, rather, I encourage people to remember that ascribing inherent qualities to certain traits (e.g., saying "estrogen is such a horrible hormone!") isn't necessarily good. It's absolutely fine to talk about personal experiences with pre-transition, I do that all the time! The only issue is bioessentializing hormones, in essence, ascribing inherentness to traits we often share.

[ultipoter]

[Super exciting!]

When you get that good topic when hanging out with Volo in pokemas

[seoulmatez]

wanderer x reader. inspired by this art!

it’s not often you find yourself so far out of the city, though, you must admit, your time spent aimlessly wandering through vanarana has proven to be just what you needed—an opportunity to clear your head. perhaps you should be heading back soon. the last thing you want to do is worry anyone and despite the serenity you’ve been met with, the forest isn’t known to be a particularly safe area. 

just one moment longer.

you hum quietly to yourself, though the tune is carried with the wind, dancing through the air as freely as the cool breeze. there’s a hill up ahead, and you ponder climbing it as your feet carry you that direction. you’ve heard that yelling from heights is considered therapeutic by some and you’ve always wanted to give it a shot yourself.

you stray from the path you’ve been walking on for who knows how long, the rough dirt beneath your feet traded in for soft grass and plush moss. though, as you approach the foot of the hill, you find your eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

something—someone, you realize—is curled up in the grass. a million thoughts pass through your mind in just seconds—is someone hurt, is someone pretending to be hurt, looking to do you harm? though, just as quickly as they had come, the thoughts and uneasiness begin to dissipate, and with just the sight of a hat.

it’s him.

pops of blue and violet against the green of the rainforest are hard to miss and while they catch your eye, what’s even more captivating is to see the wanderer so… defenseless. 

you take special care to lighten your steps as you continue toward him. his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm and his lips are parted, quiet breaths pushing past them. he’s asleep, out here in the open like there isn’t a danger in the world.

your proximity doesn’t seem to stir him, so you take another step and carefully kneel just a couple of feet away from him. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him up this close before. you certainly never realized how long his eyelashes are, how smooth his skin is. you’re tempted to reach out to touch him, to see if it feels as smooth as it looks—

all too suddenly, his eyes fly open and his hand darts out to take a hold of your wrist—you didn’t even know that you acted on your thoughts. 

“what do you think you're doing?” he asks. his grip on you is firm but far from painful and he makes no move to sit up from his position. his reflexes are enough to tell you that if he thought you were a threat, he’d be able to handle you.

“i could ask you the same thing.” you tug your arm back and, to your surprise, the wanderer lets you go easily. you don’t realize it until his hand is gone, but his palm was shockingly warm. “it’s not safe to sleep out here. and i can’t imagine it’s very comfortable.”

he finally sits up, stretching his arms above his head and fighting back a yawn. you bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling at the uncharacteristically cute scene playing out before you. though, as soon as he catches you staring, a frown is etched into the wanderer’s features. “what do you care?”

it’s a good question—you suppose, in the end, your curiosity got the better of you. it doesn’t seem like an answer that he would find acceptable, so you simply shrug.

“i’m going to head back now,” you tell him, standing up and patting your thighs. you throw your thumb over your shoulder with a hopeful smile. “would you like to join me?”

he stands up too, and for a moment you think he’s going to accept your offer, but when he picks his hat up from the ground and places it back on his head, he says, “i’ll pass.”

a wave of disappointment washes over you but you hold on tightly to your smile. “suit yourself.”

you turn on your heel and start the long walk back to sumeru city. the melody you had been humming earlier makes its way back to you and fills the air around you along your footsteps—and another set. you turn to look over your shoulder and find the wanderer a few feet behind you.

you keep walking but address him. “i thought you didn’t want to walk together.”

“i’m going in the same direction, that’s all.” his voice, mildly annoyed, drifts up from behind you.

you don’t question him, content to continue your humming. 

the entire way back, you hear the wanderer’s footsteps just a short distance behind you.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

so the thing about followers is that by the "numbers" i hit 90k a while ago but my follower list looks mainly like

I'd need a full time intern just for deleting bots and deactivateds to get any actual clue of how many of yall are in here

(also shoutout to the real people in there)

[treasureplcnet]

assorted bodies doodles (transcript of that messy relationship square under the cut due to my handwriting/incoherency)

TAKE THESE W A GRAIN OF SALT i am like 90% joking:

hillinghead -> hasan, and vice versa: immediate mutual respect

hillinghead -> whiteman: he's incredibly smart, deceptively cunning but very kind. but he is also so annoying oh my god--

hillinghead -> maplewood: "please someone explain science fiction to me"

whiteman -> iris, and vice versa: two friends secretly think of the other as the sidekick

whiteman -> hillinghead: annoying him is quickly becoming a favorite pasttime

whiteman -> hasan: will not admit it but he wants parenting tips from her

hasan -> whiteman: has slipped a parenting book to him

hasan -> maplewood: deja vu about their future weirds her out a little, but she trusts her

iris -> hillinghead: fond of him from the time they spoke in the prison. enjoys fucking with him

iris -> hasan: SHE'S THE GOAT

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Trick or treat!! (Spoiler: it's a treat :3)

I had the pleasure of taking part in the Love Of My Afterlife server collaboration, celebrating Payneland's First Halloween — thanks to @manicpixiedreamedwins for organising!! And I had the absolute DELIGHT of illustrating the gorgeous, soft autumnal hug of a fic that is Season of Mists by @laiqualaurelote !!! Thank you darlin', working with you has been a joy and an honour 💛

Due to time constraints etc. I couldn't even do half the scene illustrations I wanted to do, so I may be back at some time in future with a few bonus sketches! In the meantime here's a soft little portrait of one of Edwin's several oh moments, and a snapshot of The Attic, his beloved and esoteric book warren!

Go forth, and experience the most perfect, gentle, lovely and loving autumn romance read this fine October day 🍂

Some art process pics (as well the Actual Size of the bookshop illustration) under the cut!

Started by very roughly sketching out the shop layout (I imagine it has a more warren-y shelf arrangement than this, though!) And doing a quick sketch. Of course then I liked the quick sketch so much I decided to try and recreate it but better!

Basic pencil layout (amazed at my accidentally decent perspective)

In with the detail sketch — trying to incorporate a load of esoteric little trinkets from the Agency! Although based on the fic I really should have honed in and done even more whimsical shelf decorations!

Sketch over the top in biro so i have something less messy that won't rub away to colour in

Basic colour with watercolour pencils. Looking at this stage makes me wish a bit that I'd not gone in as hard with the ink wash, as the colours are brighter and more autumnal, but you live and learn!

And finally, in with outlines and ink wash, aka my usual art style/medium!

Behold!! A very tiny and fussy work of art 😊

[tvlandofficiall]

revisiting ch1 for the anniversary and one thing that's always stuck out to me is the couple of times darkness is associated with being able to "see the way". i don't know if it means anything or if it's just me reading a bit too much into some flavor text but if it does mean anything i definitely think it has something to do with how, like how venturing further into the darkness reveals the truth of what's hidden there (the switch in the ringaround puzzle room or the path to a key, for example), entering the dark worlds themselves reveals the hidden truth of the objects of the light world to us and the lightners — that they're not just ordinary objects, but living beings. the darker it gets, the more the whole of these worlds and how they are connected is revealed to us.

[kwillow]

Started this back in February when it was more topical but... I suppose no time is a good time for romance as far as Theo is concerned.

[remus-poopin]

The “A very frosty Christmas” chapter in HBP is so interesting to me in terms of understanding Lupin’s relation to the werewolf community. The standout line to me is this:

“‘I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing — and sometimes killing — to eat.’” (HBP, 334)

The framing of this is interesting, he didn’t say: “wizards have shunned them from normal society therefore marginalizing them so they have to steal and sometimes kill to eat”, no he puts the werewolves in the active role as if they are making a sort of choice. It effectively takes the blame off of the wizards that oppress them.

I think he might feel that it is a choice they are making. He has tried very hard all his life to fit into wizarding society. Everything he does is in an attempt to appear non threatening. He has made a choice to not live in the werewolf colonies, he’s made a choice to hold jobs, he’s made a choice to socialize with other wizards, he’s made a choice to appear civilized, he’s made a choice to conform into wizard society-

yet he is still not accepted.

The issue is not the werewolves disregarding society but a society that fundamentally disregards their humanity.

On some level he must know this yet the way he speaks about his community is dripping with a sort of self loathing that pushes for a drive for assimilation (something you can find in most groups of marginalized people).

He holds these views of achieving social mobility through the appearance of civilization while being walking proof that werewolf assimilation is futile, so he has to construct mental barriers to avoid being crushed under the weight of his own hypocrisy.

[quirkle2]

wanted to make a takenaka art dump to practice for potential fic art but i ended up just doing a full piece after the first sketch.whoopsie

[tumbleweed-run]

A Perfect Date With Gale

@arachnethebard perhaps not what you intended but this is what happened

Since you got to Waterdeep with Gale he's been insistent that the two of you go on a 'perfect' first day... despite the fact that the two of you are already engaged.

Perfection is such a difficult thing to achieve.

1600 words because I'm physically incapable of brevity.

PG (for once)

Gale has been talking about giving you a “proper first date” for entire month you two have been in Waterdeep. Never mind the fact that you two are engaged. He’s been focusing on it near daily. Every time he brings it up you smile and nod. It’s not that you wouldn’t enjoy a nice night out exploring the city, but it’s not about that. 

“Tomorrow night,” he announces one night as he enters the study.  You’re petting Tara, tactfully ignoring a light smear of blood around her mouth… the tower is always miraculously free of rodents. 

You find new clothes draped over a bench in the bedroom the following afternoon. You admire them for a moment, almost hesitant to touch them. They’re finer than anything you’ve worn in years, possibly ever. But despite your mild apprehension over the likelihood of destroying them before you step foot out of the tower, you don them. Gale did go through the trouble, and expense, procuring them for you. 

Gale greets you outside the room, looking as though he’s been waiting the entire time you’ve been inside. You chuckle to yourself at the thought, given that it was once just his room. 

He’s wearing almost traditional wizard’s robes but these are new, a deep maroon with gold accents. He’s begun to stray from the purple he wore almost exclusively when you first met him. There might be something deeper behind that if you dared to think about it for a moment. You know there’s some meaning behind the gold and emerald earring he has in. Your hand instinctively goes to it’s other half, resting around your neck.

“Shall we?” He offers you his arm, eyes sweeping over your form. His smile tells you he’s pleased with the way you look in what he’s selected. 

You spend much of the walk taking in the city at dusk. Waterdeep is so different from Baldur’s Gate, and yet so very similar. Gale happily talks for the both of you. 

The building you stopped in front of was beautiful to say the least, all the street facing windows were stained glass in the shape of the city’s crest. The two large heavy doors were opened and a rather bored looking man in fine clothes stood just inside them. The braziers over the steps was brightly polished brass throwing the light far into the road as if beckoning people in. 

You were busy, once again, marvelling at the building you at first missed Gale’s eyebrows knitting together. He was speaking to the man in the door way, both in hushed tones. The man seemed simply uninterested in whatever Gale was telling him. 

“Now I’m positive I’ve reserved a table,” Gale’s voice had pitched upwards giving away his apparent distress. “I came down myself a tenday ago and booked it.”

You saw a light go on in the bored man’s eyes. “Ah,” he said nodding, “I see the error. The table you booked is for next year. All our bookings are.”

Gale’s mouth simply hands open, a light red brushing just above his beard on his cheeks. 

“Gale,” you say softly, hand going to his arm, “It’s fine we’ll find something else for tonight and come back… next year.”

You resolutely, do not laugh.

Gale, still flabbergasted into silence, looks between you and the other man. For a moment he looks like he wants to argue with one of you but wisely, wisely, nods to you instead. You lead this time as you turn away from the lovely building.

Gale seems over his shock sometime later and sighs heavily. “It’s unlikely we’ll find something worthy of our first date tonight.”

He sounds so put down your heart breaks for a moment. You don’t give into the feeling and instead hook your arm through his. “Whatever we find will be perfect,” you assure him.

He offers you a small, but doubtful smile. 

You two wander, arm in arm, in the cool evening air. Gale doesn’t really seem to be looking for a new option but you are. And it appears down a dirt-packed road, you grasp his arm and point. 

Gale sputters again, “The Yawning Portal?” 

He seems incredulous that you would even suggest it. 

“Well they’re not likely to turn us away,” you risk a tease, “and besides you’ve spoken if it dozens of times. Let’s go!”

Gale relents almost immediately when you turn to him with pleading eyes, and as soon as he does you nearly drag him down the road. You laugh, out loud this time, when Gale shuffles his coin purse further beneath his robes. 

The proprietor barely spares you an eye roll as you two enter in your finery, he’s too busy to care. You run directly up to the dry well first and peer down, you can’t see anything but darkness. Gale gently redirects you to a table in the corner with an exasperated smile. Once he deems you safely secured into a relatively unoccupied corner he disappears towards the bar. Immediately you love this tavern with its rowdy clientele and atmosphere similar to many you had frequented in Baldur’s Gate. 

Gale returns with two mugs full of ale. “Food will be out in a moment,” he assures you, near shouting to be heard over the noise. 

You beam at him and reluctantly, he grins widely back.

One thing for Waterdeep is even in it’s most questionable of places the food is mouthwatering, a testament to Waterdeep’s reputation for the finest food on the coast. The two of you huddle together to hear each other without yelling as you eat. Gale surreptitiously points out some of the notable patrons that are there tonight. He lets you watch in rapt interest as a few bold adventurers lower themselves into the dry well, making for the Undermountain. Only once they disappeared did he launch into an explanation of the dungeon they were entering. 

Seemingly too soon the food is gone and your mugs empty. You don’t want the evening out to end just yet, you realize you miss your own little adventure (perhaps not the constant near-death aspect) and this place helps easy some of the sadness. Besides, as Gale’s mugs drained he leaned closer to you, words breathed against your ear and neck as he filled you in on everything he knew. 

You offer to get another round, immediately missing the warmth of his body pressed to yours as you stand. 

As you return you spot him watching you. The look on his face is openly dreamy, even when he realizes your watching him. 

The widening of his eyes is the only warning you receive before you trip into a rather stout dwarf you had somehow missed in your path. Your stumble sends the ale spilling down your front and most unfortunately directly over the dwarf’s head. 

In an instant he’s got both hands wrapped around your arms, the mugs falling to the floor. “Now, what in the hell is wrong with you,” he snarls yanking you forward nearly bending you in half so you’re closer to his level. 

You haven’t even fully registered what’s happened when just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, the dwarf is gone. 

Not gone, you realize. Instead, he’s now pinned against a table by Gale. He’s got one hand on the dwarf’s collar holding him and in the other he has a small spark of flame dancing in his palm. His face is dark, both literally and figuratively. Hair loosed by his sudden movements, falling forward and shielding his eyes from you.

This…

is new.

“... made a mistake, no need to get rough,” Gale is speaking and you suddenly realize the room’s gone quiet enough that you can hear him perfectly well despite the distance between you. 

In opposition to what he’s saying, the flame grows against his palm. 

The smell of beer hits you first, your front completely soaked in it. Then the realization that the dwarf is similarly covered sinks in. Gale is more likely to accidentally set the man ablaze than he is to diffuse the situation. 

That is what he’s trying to do, you hope. 

“Gale,” you speak just above a whisper, hand coming to rest on his back gently. 

You don’t want to cause the flame to catch. 

“It’s alright,” You assure him, hand rubbing in a soothing pattern, “We’re alright. Right?” The last is aimed at the dwarf who is glancing nervously between the flame and you now.

“Yeah,” He nods almost imperceptibly, “no harm done.”

Whatever had come over him abruptly left Gale, in one movement he both released the dwarf and extinguished the flame. 

“Well then,” you nod with an over-enthusiastic smile, “a round for everyone!” The coin pouch you hold up is Gale’s. 

Everyone is instantly merry, the volume once again rising so you can no longer hear those around you. 

“That’s not how I wanted our first date to go,” Gale says much later in the evening as you two are in the bath. 

You’re seated between his legs, leaning back against his chest, hand lazily drawing patterns on his knee in the water. Your ruined clothes are discarded on the floor somewhere near. The scent of rosewater is diluted only slightly by the smell of a tavern 

The laughter that bursts out of you is unexpected but after a beat even Gale joins in, head dipping back against the edge as he does. 

“It was perfect,” you insist turning your head to look at him.

Both of his eyebrows go up. “For us,” you amend. You twist just far enough to press a kiss to his lips. 

He hums against your mouth. “You still smell like you bathed in ale,” he teases, nose wrinkling.

[vaguely-concerned]

in his and davrin's banters, lucanis exhibits a certain little shit energy I don't think we see him have with anyone else other than illario and honestly I am living for this

[gammija]

love listening to sherlock&co while having only the faintest idea about the source material. everyones having opinions on Mary while im just here like 'she seems nice i hope she and John have fun 😺'