#when the vultures come

[hymnrevival]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Hymn Revival (@hymnrevival)

[vultures-and-scavengers]

13 year old cullen was all "im gonna learn how to wield a sword and im gonna protect people and im gonna wear cool armor and join the templars" and then cut to 30 year old cullen and he's like. "yep. another day of doing paperwork until 9pm. glory to andraste, i guess."

[viperra1]

THEY TOOK BOONE.

The floor of his room in Lucky 38 was littered with bolts and screws, just waiting to be fixed into something more tangible. The Courier furrowed his brow, distracted by the frantic noises from the hall. Again. He had to hop through the trash to get to his door. "Hey, y'all, quick question – can a man have some fucking silence in his own damn house?" The noises stopped. Veronica looked at him, eyes wide and gaping from some sort of a mix between panic, pain and worry. "Six..." Ah. His guts felt like they were put in cold Siberian water. "No. Where's Boone? You were with him." The Courier paused, heartbeat quickening. He did not breathe. "He's still at McCarran?" Veronica could not utter another word. "Six..." The other people in the hall were quiet, standing around the corners, just... watching. Waiting, maybe. He did not know, and neither did he care. Finally, Gannon took the lead, laying a hand on devastated Veronica. He took a quick look at the back of her head. Injury? "McCarran was attacked by the Legion soldiers, Six. They... took captives. A captive." "...I see." Even though his palm now turned hot and sweaty, was still holding the door handle. He stood still, looking at every single person in this room – the people who's gone to battle with him, who took care of him, took care of each other and of the people that they all were oh, so tirelessly trying to save, day after day after day. The rage that he felt got nothing to do with them. He already has the crimson red look, so, well. With the level of burning, scorching, bloodlust rage he felt, this famous God damned Bull might as well be him right now. "Okay," he took a deep breath, exhale long and shuddering with anger. "Right... Get ready, folks. We're going to fucking war." He turned to Veronica, then. "You did good." If his smile was more murderous than thankful, well. His people would not hold a grudge.

details and grayscale!! i'm really proud of this piece :)

hewwo!! if any of you got to the end of the post – i am writing a fic with this courier oc x boone!! let me know if you'd be interested in reading it 🥺 i'm still too easily discouraged when in comes to writing, so support will be MUCH appreciated!!!!

[lithuvan]

ever since i saw the sam smith airport jeans photos i couldn't stop thinking about this

at least pelle wore some leggings under his jeans

[sarue]

Sarek: *marries a human and has one and a half human children*

Also Sarek: why are my children so human? What did I do wrong?

[macchitea]

turned my sona into a slugged cat :D

behold, a beast

[proteusolm]

Every time someone who collects bones and taxidermy gives someone advice on the legality of keeping deceased birds based on the MBTA without bothering to check if the person is in a country where those laws apply, an angel loses its wings.

[frunzzo]

Some birds from a while ago and some more recent ones too :) (plus a cat face)

I've been drawing them in class a lot and during breaks!

[legobiwan]

I always dress up for Halloween when I teach (the students love it). Last year, I went as Mr. L. This year, I'm going as Portal!Ford (an easy costume, seeing as I own a TON of black clothing). We'll see if the kids get the reference, as I've talked about Gravity Falls before in class (even used the theme song for a harmonic analysis!)

[the-crimson]

Why do people keep thinking bbh is turning skulky or into a warden when it’s so obviously connected to the Soul Vultures/Souls in general XD

(Edit: also the deep dark doesn’t even exist on the qsmp, they aren’t using that version of Minecraft)

[ofcowardiceandkings]

the sanitisation of the internet to make shit (no one wants) marketable because media giants urged on by puritan lobbying dont want to acknowledge that we are naked apes who have created based around sexual experience for thousands of years is so flawed

sure theres heinous content on the internet but thats just true of everywhere - in a GIANT library youll just find more because theres more STUFF

its got NOTHING to do with keeping kids safe or the allegedly child-approved internet wouldnt be a hellscape

[anchovy]

I’m glad the appreciation for skulls and other vulture culture aspects are starting to catch more people’s attention, but it sucks because it’s just turned into people bulk buying skulls off dropshipping websites and then reselling them at double the price at an art/craft show. It just feels wrong.

[vultures-and-scavengers]

For that prompt list

❝  no,  i’m not okay.  nothing is okay.  it never is.  but that’s just how i function most days.  so i’ll be fine.  ❞

For any pairing you'd think fit!

I considered doing a platonic pairing, but I decided I was going to be predictable and basic instead, and go with the brainrot: Annette Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford. Thank you so much for the ask from this prompt list! I had fun mulling this one over! :D

~~~

He should be grateful Annette cares enough to fret over his health, but really, Cullen just wants to snarl at her.

No, tea will not help. Yes, he's tried potions. They take the edge off but do little else, and he's already taken one. No, he hasn't eaten, and yes, that's because he can't.

Maker, he has no idea how she even knew to appear.

Annette at least thought to bring a bowl of conjured ice, and the cold numbs some of the pain arcing through his skull. That, he's grateful for.

Still.

"What do you want me to say?" he hisses, gratefulness completely nonexistent within his tone. "That I'll be alright? That'll be fine? I won't be-- and there's nothing you or anyone else can do."

She's completely unruffled by his temper, likely reading it as the outlet of pain that it is. Or, and this is more likely, he admits to himself, she's unbothered because they've said far worse to each other.

Void, he'd called her a naive coward who cared only for the lives of her fellow highborn.

In comparison, his temper now is downright friendly.

The pain he's accepted. The inability to get to his desk and get work done? Not so much. They'd been victorious at adamant, but the destruction of Jader two weeks ago had cut their celebrations short.

Cullen should be working. He should be at the war council aiding in organizing relief efforts. He should be deploying soldiers to contain the wretched red lyrium infested undead streaming out of the ruined city.

Instead he's in bed, unable to get up, the inquisitor having abandoned her own efforts to sit beside him.

The migraine is easier than the guilt.

"Jader is more important," he manages, when Annette says nothing in response to his temper. She remains placid, and the only hints of emotion he can decipher are concern and worry. Annette only wears her silver half mask in Orlais, but she doesn't need it to be unreadable.

It's damned frustrating sometimes.

She removes her hand from the bowl of ice sitting in her lap and presses the backs of her freezing fingers to his temple. Maker, it feels good. He almost misses her quiet words when she finally speaks

"Josephine and I have reached out to contact who we can, and have audited our finances to secure what funding we can for relief. Leliana still lacks solid reporting on the extent of the damage, and so we have enlisted the aid of our wardens in additional scouting. There is little more we can do from here at present. Should we rush in, we risk poisoning our own people and undermining our ability to save who we can."

She's right. He knows she's right. It still feels wrong, to know the city is gone and yet lie here. He should be there. Or he feels he should be there. The red lyrium choking the air and strangling the water supplies make any incursions dangerous.

It was wonderful, truly, how red lyrium kept getting worse.

Cullen sighs.

She hasn't said it outright-- that's not her way-- but he hears it all the same. Annette has no plans to leave him be. The cold radiating from her fingers makes him more amenable to the idea. Slightly.

But something curdles in his gut at appearing so weakened before her. He's her commander. He should be stronger than this. Before Adamant, he might have said it was only his professional pride at stake.

He's not so sure now.

He shoves the feelings he refuses to name away.

She certainly won't return them, and they have larger issues to deal with. The loss of Jader, one of Celene's strongholds, had inspired Gaspard to march his troops into the Exalted Plains in an attempt to seize the Citadelle du Corbeau.

Because they'd needed the civil war to get even bloodier, of course.

It's tactically sound. Celene has to pivot to deal with refugees, and the loss of financial and martial backers, and if the Citadelle is seized, Gaspard can control trade up and down the river, further putting Orlais under his power.

It's a damning choice, though.

There are Orlesian refugees now fleeing to Ferelden, where the fighting in the hinterlands has already strained the throne and its resources. People needed aid and Gaspard saw only a chance at power.

Fucking nobles.

He shouldn't sympathize with the Freemen of the Dales, not openly, but damn it all if he doesn't understand them.

His headache intensifies. He turns his head slightly, pushing harder against her hand, greedily trying to reclaim the now-fading sensation. Annette shifts a little closer, the headboard creaking slightly where she leans against it, and she rolls an ice cube in her other hand.

Cullen knows, in a distantly factual sort of way, that she raised her younger siblings after the death of her own mother. It's a little less distant now, given the way she's currently fussing over his health. He can easily imagine her with a young child.

Perhaps too easily.

He returns to a safer subject, one less unsettling and easier to discuss.

"It's not always this bad-- the lyrium, I mean," he says. "I can live with it."

Her eyes narrow just a hair, almost imperceptible, but he's been learning how to read the subtleties that make up her expressions, and he catches it. She wants to push back and try to fix this, and he sees the moment she accepts she can't.

Annette's head drops slightly, her eyes skittering away from him to traverse the room around them. "If you require solitude, I can grant that," she says, and for the first time, she looks uncertain.

Well, she looks calm, actually.

But he can see her hesitation underneath the mask she presents. Cullen mirrors it, because five minutes prior, he'd wanted her to leave, but now he second-guesses. Especially if she takes the ice with her. He doesn't think she will, but he tells himself the loss of the ice isn't something he can risk.

"Stay."

[viperra1]

YOU WON'T CATCH ME ALIVE!!

it's still august 18 where i am now, so!! yeehawgust 2024 - @yeehawgust - day 18 - Don't Fence Me In

[pocketwish]

back from my first day as a zoo docent and i was unprepared for the sheer number of people who would just walk up and go "ew! he's so ugly! what is that??? ewwww" like that is my friend bowser :( he's not ugly :( do you want to know some fun facts about him? :(

[longagoitwastuesday]

I can't believe they managed to make hot a man that looks like this