GOOD / DAMNED

what a strange, strange world we live in - - - those who don't have lose, those who got get given MORE, MORE, MORE.

[godforge]

and some folks prayed in reverence and some folks prayed in fear

ESYLLT TREVELYAN. an independent inquisitor from dragon age. written by bee. 

[holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe]

A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments, Roland Barthes

[weltenwellen]

Louise Glück, Averno

[godforge]

highaver​:

     ‘ Endless worry and endless work? That won’t change anytime soon, I’m afraid. ’ Maker preserve those poor fools who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. If the Maker even cared anymore. Balfour had his doubts. ‘ If ever. You’ll probably have a couple more titles by the end of all this, though. A few Heroes, maybe. Makes people feel better, I think. ’ 

sometimes her largest reassurance is that there would have been weight upon her shoulders and paperwork on her desk even if she had remained in ostwick - - - only it would have been LATER, when she perhaps felt more prepared. fingers twitch by her sides. “if they do not hate me by the end it will be enough.” IF THERE IS AN END, she does not say. if she lives to see an end. it is a second, more dangerous thought. “though hero would sound prettier.”

[highaevr-a-deactivated20221220]

HAVEN’T  YOU  HEARD?  I  DON’T  HAVE  A  HEART,  EVERYONE  KNOWS  THAT.     #HIGHAEVR.      a private  &  selective     elethea cousland,  hero  of  ferelden.   written by nan.

[godforge]

highaver​:

@godforge​. one liner sc. 

     ‘ Lofty new title you’ve got, ’ he said, casually as anything. ‘ Feeling alright? ’ 

she FEELS like an exposed nerve. “herald of andraste was more worrying.” what is INQUISITOR when compared to HERALD? esyllt does not touch the fact people are saying she died at haven and came back to life. “inquisitor simply has more paperwork attached.”

[weltenwellen]

Louise Glück, from “Blue Rotunda”, Poems 1962 - 2012

[godforge]

mustangif​:

    mustang’s shoulders dropped as the last foe dropped,  heart sunk along with the falling corpse    [  so much avoidable death,  though it was either kill or be killed in these parts;  hopefully for not much longer,  but  …  ]    and knew that those around them were far from the last to die.  the moment was taken to breathe before 

    “  good idea  we  -  i stick out in the forest,  ”    his old templar armor still glistened in the winter sunlight,  the metal made each typically careful movements awkward in the natural setting    [  the damn mud and rocks were so different from simple cobblestone roads  ].    “  how far till we get where we’re headed?  ”

every man in the selfsame armor he wears makes her feel vaguely ILL. not because of the war, or the way that it seems any person passing through these parts is at risk of attack - - - but because it is all too easy to imagine it is, for a moment, CADOC. it is the same with mage robes and owain ; every man bears the face of a dead brother until she is close enough to see the difference. esyllt slips her bow back into place and takes a breath of the sharp-cold air as she looks away through the trees and takes a perfectly - too perfect to be NATURAL - even breath.

“we have a camp not far from here,” the relative safety of inquisition soldiers and the gear they will have on hand beckons. esyllt pulls a vial of vibrant red potion from her belt and offers it to him, downing one with her other hand. the sore pull of her shoulders, the tenderness of her feet, and the sparse cuts she had gained in the fight all float away as she swallows. “there will be some inquisition armor we can offer you, a place to rest, a fire, and food.” all things she is eager to get to, though that note is kept from her carefully measured voice as esyllt looks at him again. “we should be able to make it before the sun hits the horizon so long as there is not too much more trouble on the road.”

[godforge]

nan: makes a new blog me: immediately makes her a 4 paragraph starter

[godforge]

the trek up to the inquisitor’s chambers is a long and arduous one. there are unfinished hallways that still gape, mouth-like, out upon the freezing mountain air. there are wooden stairs that creak beneath even the slightest of weight - - - and a great many of them, too, rickety and uneven. there are a multitude heavy doors that must be heaved open and which creak on their rusted hinges when you do so. ALL OF THIS TO SAY - ESYLLT HAD KNOWN SOMEONE WAS COMING. most are not allowed to pass by the guards who stand at the very first door off of the grand hall and should those ones be felled there would likely be a great clamor from below, so esyllt had not stopped in her diligent task of sitting at her desk and staring exhausted at the several neat stacks of PAPERWORK upon it.

a request for more ELFROOT SEEDS is in her hands when that final door CREAKS open, but whoever it is must climb a final set of stairs up into her chambers proper for her to see who it is. there is no use in looking up from the paper - now back on the desk and quill in hand instead to write an approval for the funds to send for more seeds, or if that cannot be done to let her know so she might collect more next she leaves skyhold. when she looks back up it is the face of THE WARDEN hawke had brought here.

WELL - - - he is more than that. a figure of LORE in ferelden. she had heard his name murmured in ostwick as well, but it is spoken far more often here, etched in the stone bases of statues dedicated to the clutch who had stopped the last blight ; LELIANA’S FRIEND, most importantly, for anyone the spymaster trusts, esyllt does as well. 

“warden,” she greets without standing as the page is shuffled to the side beside a stack of papers she has already looked over and written responses to and are ready to be sent back out to wherever they must go. the next paper in her TO DO stack is a list of names in cullen’s hand and esyllt does not want to know if it is a list of the DEAD or a list of those she must KILL. it remains in place and esyllt looks instead at alastair with a shade of a smile, “please pardon the mess, i was not expecting company.”

@theireign​

[charitydingle]

KILLING EVE, 2018- Season 3, Episode 6 - “End of Game”

[godforge]

esyllt worries heavily about OUTWARD APPEARANCE. it was something instilled by her parents as heir ; ruling a city state is in part a matter of being unflinching in the face of hostility from all angles - skirmishes over land or resources cannot be met with cowering. this grows worse when esyllt is called HERALD ; it is a title she already feels is impossible to live up to and that weighs on her like a yoke around her neck. there are thousands of eyes upon her at all times now and she must, MUST live up to their expectations. it is a rare soul who sees esyllt in a state of disarray, something reserved only begrudgingly for her sister and those in her inner circle. the public does not get to see the dark shadows, the wet eyes, the trembling jaw, the mussed hair. to those outside she must be STONE, unshakeable, hair perfectly tied and armor impeccably shining. it is what they expect and esyllt will not let them down. SHE DOESN’T HAVE THAT OPTION.

[nightmaer]

seeing as i approached them nicely and they blocked me. @beautereign is using white washing psds on her Asian muses, stating it’s “for the aesthetic”, I approached and said I could recommend some psds. These are the replies I got. There are so many FREE psds that are specially designed for every single skin colour. There is absolutely no excuse to be ignorant and racist with so many free resources.

Keep reading

[whocanretell]

Good morning dash,

This is a post almost a year to the date from 2020 calling out the whitewashing asshole from yesterday on their shit. Their blog was established in December of 2020, so they were called out for this literally in their first month with this blog and did fucking nothing about it. Going to drop a couple of screenshots this morning about them whining about how we’re all misinterpreting the situation and coming to them in bad faith as bullies, but they’ll be under a cut.

You can find this person at @beautereignaes​/ @dreamhart​ / @atlasinheels​ if they’ve blocked you from their main blog and they also have a feedback form if you’d like to tell them how you really feel. Happy blocking! 

Keep reading

[godforge]

fauxgryf​:

“I do hate to be brutally honest, my Lady, but that’s what pawns are. People. Willing to fight for you, your cause, and what they believe in is right. They are here for you to place them where YOU see fit in this battle. Soldiers and commoners alike.” The Corpse blood has seen his fair share of war. He’s fought in plenty too. But perhaps he spoke to coldly and crude. “And it need not be a foul thing. I for one have a head full of busy thoughts and opinions.”

“As do many of the people here. I’m sure you’ve heard them..” There was a pause. Shinning hues of fire and ash peering at the woman. “Anything. I hunt beasts and demons, and I’ve a skill for keeping in the shadows.”

her head THROBS. unfortunately, that is a near constant truth these days. esyllt cannot recall the last time there was not a persistent, percussive noise in residence in the space just behind her eyes ; the stony set of her jaw and the way her gaze skips away from him to stare out across the courtyard at the very people they speak of may betray her and show her discomfort at the conversation despite her attempt to appear unmoved. “i do not ask them to fight for ME.” THE HERALD, THE INQUISITOR, THE HOLY MARTYR. the huge titles make her feel impossibly small. “rather for the world they live in.”

that is all she says on the matter. her own glowing turn back to him. “all good skills. there are several dragons wrecking havoc on settlements around ferelden and orlais ; we have been asked to deal with them by several parties. is that the sort of beast you are skilled in slaying?”

[godforge]

when you stop writing for long enough you forget what your formatting is

[shaneofaragon]

[godforge]

oh mother, i’m scared to die. where, where do my good deeds lie? oh father, i’m scared to live - takes more than i’ve got to give. oh sister, my voice is weak, oh brother, i long for sleep. oh hunger, i know you well, my cruel friend is a funeral bell.

GODFORGE  ;  an independent inquisitor written by bee.