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soft Bellarook morning smooches!!

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who was gonna tell me carver hawke is in the last court??????????

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Lore accurate depiction of Solas trying to retrieve his orb

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speaking of peeing the bed it's been long enough that i can tell this story publicly. in high school i went to a party at some house with no adults, as you sometimes would, and at the end of the night like 10 people all clonked out together in the same bed. fully clothed, one of those teenage moments where you're like wow heehee how rule-breaking, because sure a lot of our parents wouldn't like us sleeping in a bed with a bunch of other teenagers and no adult supervision blah blah. fond memories. anyway.

i'm an extremely light sleeper, so i barely slept, and sometime around 6 am, i woke up to a girl totally panicking, very quietly, because she peed the bed in her sleep. and listen. this wasn't a group of mean kids by any measure. but there's no level of kindness or understanding in the world that will make peeing the bed when you're 17, surrounded by people you only sort of know, a gentle blow.

so i sat up and she was like "oh my god" and I signaled at her to be absolutely silent and I said I'd be right back. And I crawled over everyone and out of the bed like a stupid cat.

and the thing is, by senior year i wasn't getting bullied much anymore. i was generally pretty well liked by my peers, but, if this makes sense, people still didn't always expect very much from me. i was still figuring out how to mask (autistic) and i still often said or did something that made everyone remember i'm weird and they'd just be like "well. that's story for you. i guess." and for the most part i'd become pretty secure in that.

so what i'm saying is i had nothing to lose and this girl had everything to lose.

so i went downstairs and i made tomato soup. and by "made" i mean i put a whole can of tomato soup in a too-small mug and microwaved it until it was lukewarm so as to be convincingly "made" but not so hot to burn someone.

and then i walked back upstairs, and no longer like a cat, i clumsily "attempted" to crawl back into bed, loudly lost my balance, and spilled tomato soup all over the girl and her lap and several other people's laps and heads and the mattress.

everyone woke up confused and anguished and i was like, "oh my god, I'm so sorry. I just got really hungry and it's all i could find."

and everyone immediately accepted with absolutely no further questions that I would go downstairs, make tomato soup at 6 am,and bring it back to bed. everyone just begrudgingly climbed onto the floor and went back to sleep while I put the bedding right into the laundry.

i don't even know this girl's name. i only remembered this story recently because i'm in my hometown for a few months and recently a high school acquaintance said, "hey. do you remember spilling soup on everyone after prom? why did you do that?" and for a moment i genuinely did not and i stared at them completely dumbfounded while the memory loaded and then i started laughing too hard to answer for 2 minutes.

the best part is i can tell this story, and even if it reaches the people who were there, none of them will know which one of them peed the bed. thanks to tomato soup.

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Brooch with hand forged fine silver lily of the valey flowers on a sterling stem. The leaf is a polished and sealed circuit board inlaid with opals.

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people sometimes compare anders and gale for the loving cats boom wizard but the dragon age character that had a fucked up relationship with what basically is a living goddess is oghr-(a sniper shoots me)

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They should invent a way to sit hunched over doing crafts that is Good for your body

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Imagine what my life would have been like if I hadn't seen this image 15 years ago?

i love her.

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realizing she's about to be front page news

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NEW OFFICIAL VETH ART JUST DROPPED!

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what i love about vivienne the most is that she views the inquisitor in like, a very honest sort of way? take varric or the advisors or cassandra, who actively and constantly dehumanise the inquisitor by way of their religion. in fact nearly all of the inquisitor's human/andrastian companions do it - but vivienne! she never makes out the inquisitor as something divine or without reproach. she views them as the sum of their collective power in the world, sure, but is realistic about it. in a turn about way, the inquisitor retains their sense of self in vivienne's approach. she quite literally weighs their pros and cons right in front of them, attempts to influence the person that the inquisitor is, barely acknowledges the 'divine' status of them beyond what it serves to give them, and by extension, her. it's very realistic, grounded, and she takes pains to poke at the inquisitor themselves. vivienne views the inquisitor as simply a flawed person with power! she outwardly attempts to craft their image of divinity and prophethood all the while actively understanding (and scoffing at) the absurdity of it - and man i think its so important

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[video by mr.tomtotoro. no caption]

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internet safety we were taught as kids: don't share ANY personal information with ANYONE EVER the british government: you don't want to give these random third parties your photo or driving licence showing your name, birthday, address and signature? are you perhaps a nonce?

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WIP Wednesday

Oh wow, and it's actually Wednesday, wild. Today's snippet of As Mountains Yet Unseen features a totally normal amount of ritual. Suuuuuper normal non-intricate rituals. Yep.

***

“You have a knack for getting injuries that are the worst sort to heal, I’m afraid,” Emmrich said sympathetically. “If I were to patch you up fully today, the pain would be monstrous. I can split the healing sessions over the course of a week, which will make the process far more tolerable.”

Isolde considered. If it would take him a whole week, then undoubtedly her leg would still hurt quite a lot for the first day or two of healing, while it was still barely healed. And if they needed her for any missions in the interim…

“Today,” Isolde said tersely.

“I thought you might say that,” Emmrich said, resigned. “I can give you painkillers to take away the worst of it, but I’m afraid that it’ll have to be a dose where some of the pain still bleeds through. Otherwise, you may inadvertently overuse the leg while it’s on the mend, and damage it further.”

“Thank you,” Isolde said.

“I swear, you thank me for the most barbarous and miserable excuses of medicine this world has seen,” Emmrich muttered under his breath as he departed.

Isolde elected not to comment.

Emmrich returned with two glasses and two bottles, a tiny one of deep blue glass, and a substantial one of translucent green that was corked so firmly that it took a minute of wriggling for Emmrich to pull it free. He poured out a portion of thick, white liquid into a glass, and then raised it to the light, considering the contents. This was laid to the side, and he picked up the blue bottle, tipping out a small portion of dark powder onto his handkerchief. He spread the medicine into a careful shape. He looked back at her then, his assessing gaze drifting slowly down her body as he considered something.

The tips of Isolde’s ears warmed at intensity of his attention. If he looked her in the eyes now, she knew there would be no hiding her blush.

Emmrich didn’t look. He nodded to himself, painstakingly tapping out another tiny measure of powder. He then tipped it unceremoniously into the glass, and added water to the mixture, stirring thoroughly. The powder swirled, and the liquid took on a disconcerting black tinge.

“As always, not a pleasant tasting concoction,” Emmrich warned her as he handed her the glass.

Isolde downed it quickly. The foully bitter taste made her mouth twist, despite herself.

Emmrich passed her a glass of plain water to chase it down. She drank it gladly.

“We’ll need to give that at least twenty minutes to begin working before I can get started,” Emmrich said. “Do you want me to fetch anything for you? You’ll need to be off your feet as much as possible for at least six hours, if not twelve.”

Isolde hesitated.

“Please, tell me,” Emmrich prompted her.

“A bowl of water and a towel?” Isolde asked hesitantly. “I’d like to get the worst of the battle off of me.”

“Of course.”

Isolde unbuckled her armor, slowly piling it next to her on the marble slab. She was glumly contemplating her greaves when Emmrich reappeared. He set the bowl next to Isolde’s thigh, dampened a cloth, and reached for her.

Isolde startled.

“My hands still work fine,” she said, embarrassed.

“Yes, of course,” Emmrich agreed, but didn’t take the hint. There was a faint smile on his face as he cleaned the dirt off her burning cheeks.

The water was warm—pleasant, compared to the cold and efficient methods of cleaning Isolde used on herself.

Well. She’d tried to dissuade him. Since he continued even after that, perhaps it would be okay to just… let it happen? It was just another facet of his fastidiousness, she supposed.

Emmrich’s face was only a foot from hers. Her eyes skittered away, her blush worsening.

He was thorough-- unexpectedly so. He moved as if he had all the time in the world. His attention lingered on her hands, the motion of the washcloth seeming to slow as he carefully cleaned each of her fingers in turn.

Isolde’s head was buzzing. Dizzily, she listed to the side. Emmich caught her, letting out a surprised sound.

“That’d be the Laitue Vireuse,” he said. “Curious, it’s rather soon for that to have kicked in… can you feel this?”

He laid careful fingers against the very edge of Isolde’s wound.

“Nothing,” Isolde said.

“And now?” Emmrich asked, pressing down slightly.

He hadn’t moved his arm from around her, still keeping her propped up. It was difficult to keep her attention in the right place.

“Not much,” Isolde said.

“Less than half as much as you would expect to feel, yes?” Emmrich clarified.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

He smelled like jasmine and fresh wood, with a hint of something she couldn’t place. It tickled her nose. He’d changed his cologne, Isolde thought dizzily. If she buried her face in his coat, would it smell of every scent he’d ever worn?

Emmrich guided her gently to lie back on the marble slab. “Well. The painkiller is active enough for me to begin the healing process. Are you ready, my dear?”

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Sera, in your face

Yes this is connected to me playing Cyberpunk and making dope fits in it

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i LOVE when wardens are blatantly hypocritical. we don't participate in politics we are neutral they all say as they walk through battlefields between the privileged and oppressed in order to make their lunch dates to the kings and queens of their time. we have much more important things to do, such as hang out in caves and spend the rest of our time posturing with the rest of nobility so that they can be our allies in troubled times. who is going to tell them that's not being politically neutral that's the political stance of upholding the status quo