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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Today's Document
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@duxbellatorum
The Hanged Man or Zevran as an Antivan Crow
another Tarot Card from The Warden Mahariel’s Tarot Deck
Other cards:
The Devil | The Lovers | The Sun | The Tower | The World | The Star | The Moon | The Judgement | The Hanged Man | The Fool
Ace of Swords | 2 of Swords | 3 of Swords | 4 of Swords | 5 of Swords | 6 of Swords |
Ace of Cups | 4 of Cups | 7 of Cups |
10 of Pentacles |
3 of Wands |
Aerith
The suture kit had been boiled clean the day prior, and sat glinting ominously inside its box. The curved needle was left behind in favor of the straight pin, and she selected the closest shade of red she could find for the cloak. Not exact, she noted as she pulled a stool up to sit near his feet, but close enough to go unnoticed.
“I got drunk on cherry wine once,” she remarked idly as she threaded the needle. “And I flirted with a Black Templar in front of the dominus, and I was locked in my room for a week and didn’t get to go to another party for a year. I think making drunken, foolish decisions is a young man’s game. Which is also sometimes played by girls.”
Stitching fabric should have been easier than stitching skin, but she found the give and buckle of the cloth confounding, and the first few stitches came out in an ugly, jagged line. She bared her teeth in a grimace, but forced a reassuring smile up at the commander. “Why did you think you were in love? What did you think you loved about them?”
The laugh he allowed himself at her story faded almost instantaneously at her question. He would have been happy to listen to every recounting of he youthful foibles, but the recollection of his own made him cringe inelegantly at the possible subject matter. Namely, himself.
“She was my first crush,” he admitted, feeling himself flush with embarrassment at the admission. “Was there ever a reason for one? They always catch you unawares, don’t they? Without rhyme or reason. I thought she was very pretty, and very capable. Two qualities I prized highly in my jejune naivete. You know, it’s funny how appropriate that Orlesian have so many apt words for stupidity.”
Aerith
“I don’t know,” Aerith said cheerily. “I’ve never tried! It can’t be all that hard, though. Mantles don’t squirm nearly as much as their owners when you stick them.” She pulled it out by the corner, studying it with a clinical air. “You stabbed it while sheathing your sword, didn’t you? Snagged it right on the point. You should hop on that little stool there. I don’t know how that helps, but I’ve seen many tailors doing it. I’ll get the suture kit. Ah, sewing kit.”
That wasn’t so reassuring. But she was the best (and fastest) hope he’d have. “I did,” he affirmed through an elongated sigh. “A drunk had pulled it from its scabbard when I was not aware of their proximity, and in my haste to right myself....” He plucked up the edge of the fabric, revealing the hole again. “That happened.”
He adopted a pensive gaze. “I never understood the appeal of making a fool of oneself in public, even with the pretext of inebriation. Then again, I once believed myself to be in love once, and that seems much the same degree of idiocy, so I should reserve my judgement. Glass houses and all that.”
[ @petalwind. ]
“I don’t suppose you know how to mend torn mantles as well as you do wounds, do you?” he asked, looking a little sheepish. “I haven’t the time to go searching for a capable tailor. And sutures seem like enough to stitches that I thought ... you might .... Is that a stupid question?”
DA4 trailer revived all my OT3 feelings
I dont usually like threesomes. Except this one. THIS ONE I ADORE
From my Patreon
Josephine art trade
Check my artblog for more drawings^^ https://www.instagram.com/anta_rf
oh, maker’s breath
anyone up for some gay shit at the local graveyard?
anyway something I hate about video games is when they make some assertion about the fictional society not being homophobic and yet the society is still heteronormative like. that’s not how things work
example: skyrim sexual orientation isn’t really talked about at all afaik and every person who can be married can be married with either character gender but like: everything is straight. I haven’t played skyrim in a while but like it’s all straight I feel like also there’s things people say in it that are heteronormative and are in there bc the people creating it didn’t see it as a problem or at odds with their apparent homophobia free society and like how can you create a fictional homophobia free society when you ain’t free of your real life assumptions. Anyway
I’ve noticed this with misogyny too, like when you go to pick your character’s gender in dragon age it says something about how men and women are considered equal and there are equal numbers of men and women in the army and in leadership positions etc.
and then you go to actually play the game and the overwhelming majority of the soldiers are male, soldiers are constantly referred to as “men,” there are characters who will say blatantly misogynistic or sexually aggressive things to you (like, blatant enough that it must be misogynistic on purpose)
and it makes me die
Some of this has to be because the people who made these games are almost exclusively straight white dudes - and while they may have had the intention of being inclusive, they literally cannot imagine what a world without heteronormativity and misogyny would look like. They give us the game mechanics to be a woman warrior or to marry a character of the same gender, but they didn’t extend this train of thought to imagine how a society where this was normal would be different from ours.
In Dragon Age, for example, the major world religion is centered on a woman, lead by women, with all-female priestesses. AND YET in everyday life characters still interact as though men are naturally in charge and express surprise at a woman issuing commands. This is directly contradictory and frankly lazy world building to suggest that people raised in a system lead exclusively by women would still somehow end up expecting male leadership, as though sexism was a sort of natural law that would happen in any society. It’s not. Also, the founding myth of their religion has the original sin as sexual jealousy rather than punishing female sexuality, which would suggest totally different social norms around monogamy, sexual orientation, and the whole idea of promiscuity. Instead they’re… More or less exactly the same as our society, slut-shaming included. This makes no sense!
It’s a complete failure of imagination, not to mention frustrating and sad.
The adorkable grumpy elf!
― CULLEN RUTHERFORD.
Dragon Age characters [ 21 / ? ]
Aerith
She thought about the kiss for days after the tumult of the ball. She had missed the finale of the evening—she’d fallen asleep on a chaise in the hall and was escorted out by the arm during the ruckus—and she hadn’t seen the commander since. It felt distinctly like he was avoiding her, although she found she wasn’t exactly eager to seek him out either. She was distracted in her work; the soldiers mentioned that she was less chatty with them, the ladies in the garden noted she seemed even more absent-minded than usual, and the merchants said she haggled her wares less viciously. But how could she focus on the here and now while she labored over the meaning of Cullen’s grasping, greedy kiss? Brief as it was.
She was half-heartedly bargaining with a raven at the window when the spymaster’s slim hand lighted on the small of her back, offering a wax-sealed letter that she insisted needed to be delivered to the commander immediately. When Aerith questioned why she did not instead send one of the underlings meant for exactly that job, she received a reprimanding pinch to her cheek and nudge toward the stairs.
She held the letter up to the moonlight as she climbed the stone steps to the commander’s office, trying to discern the contents from the outline. She surmised that it must have been backcoated with some wax or thicker ink, probably to prevent that exact method of reading. Her invasive curiosity found that very disappointing.
She lingered outside the half-open door when she reached the top, feeling the faint flutter of nerves somewhere in her chest. She almost found a soldier nearby to relay the letter, but instead she leaned around the door frame and knocked two light raps on the wood.
“Cullen?” she said, flashing an easy smile in spite of the nervousness that had plagued her only seconds before. Her steps were light as she sidled over to his desk. “Good evening. The stars are noisy tonight, aren’t they? I couldn’t sleep with the chatter. They must be keeping you awake too.” She extended the letter in her hand before he could remark either way. "I’m supposed to bring you a missive. And I’m supposed to report back with your answer after you read it. But no rush, if you’re busy. I can come back later, if you like.“
Agonizing over schoolboy crushes was something Cullen had thought himself beyond, in both maturity and age. He found himself remembering during those moments when his consciousness slipped away, allowing the disarray of his heart to seep into his forefront, when he was a younger, greener thing, with grand ideas about the world and the people in it, when faith and hope and love were what colored his worldview. When love was a beautiful possibility, an adventure yet to be undertaken, and not a vexatious inconvenience.
And yet it was not with resentment colored with rue that he contemplated that purloined kiss, the moonstruck foolishness that plagued him the rest of the night and after, even after the spell of her lingering perfume had faded and fled. He’d fallen asleep thinking of it. Woken up thinking of it. Of her. And not with a despondency or the irrational idiocy that came with falling in love, but with a lightness, an incontestable joy that felt very much like the unfamiliar boon of hope.
And despite that exquisite despair of wanting to see her again, to speak with her, to hear her voice, to discern her strange patterns and processes in the way she spun her sentences, he absconded. Hid out in the recesses of paperwork, of training, of any occupation that felt less frivolous and more impactful than sitting around in a spun sugar reverie of a girl with the prettiest green eyes he’d ever seen.
But her voice had struck as sure as lightning as it carried into his office, borne on the wind, and the parchment in his hand fluttered madly with the ingress of the draft, echoing the frenzy of his own heart. Cullen received the letter in a gloved hand, his eyes meeting hers only in passing as he scanned the room for anything to focus on, before boldly settling on her shoulder. “No, no, it’ll only take a moment,” he assured her softly, already devouring the contents of the letter, which was a very pertly-scrawled “You’re welcome” in Josephine’s beautiful penmanship, with an addendum of something rudely playful in Orlesian tacked on in Leliana’s strict hand.
Cullen folded the letter quickly, stuffing it into his drawer as he regarded her again. “You can tell the Spymaster to get stuffed,” Cullen informed her brusquely. “But in your Aerith way. Which I’m sure will be much sweeter and a thousand times more roundabout. Possibly spoken in riddles. But don’t you have better to do than run as an errand girl for her?” He paused, considering. “H-how have you been? Besides the stars ruining your repose.”
