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@populusviciata-blog
populusvicixta:
Heroes are made,              not born, ser                        and all of them                                     were a little bit moved from populusviciata                               f u c k e d u p
Friendly reminder Iâve moved !!
populusvicixta:
Heroes are made,              not born, ser                        and all of them                                     were a little bit moved from populusviciata                                f u c k e d u p
Friendly reminder Iâve moved !!
Heroes are made,                    not born, ser                                    and all of them                                                 were a little bit moved from populusviciata                                           f u c k e d u p
populusvicixta:
Heroes are made,                   not born, ser                                   and all of them                                               were a little bit moved from populusviciata                                         f u c k e d u p
knifxeared replied to your post âhaving a wacom for the first time in months i can finally paint and...â
Whispers omg how do you the art SO wONDERFUL
i'M NOT SAYING DEMONIC SACRIFICES BUT ---
having a wacom for the first time in months i can finally paint and iâm loving every secondÂ
i have next week off due to a surprise regulation board audit praise corypheus
wait i mean --
nxwheretorun replied to your post
Wow that fucking sucks. I hope you're doing okay over there
i'm fine, just so angry and upset because my account isn't actually supposed to allow me to overdraw in the first place. i set it up so it should reject my card so this doesnât happen in the first place. and then to charge me so much for the overdraw is just - i'm shaking so hard because i can't afford to pay them back even with my wage going in tomorrow
Puts blog on hiatus and retreats to corvinuscorvus
đ ||Â Ocean Blues
           with knifxeared
"Back in Antiva City, I'd only ever seen the ocean this wild once," Marinn commented as he and Kivari finally set foot on the Storm Coast. The bitter scent of seaweed and the richness of the sea air still brought back the memories of living out near the harbours of Antiva City, where the sun was always shining and pockets could be picked even if you were watching them very closely. All he needed was the sound of his father scolding Carina for making a mess of the boat and the smell of his mother's legendary clam chowder, and it was like being back home again.
"The storm was so fierce it blew boats right up onto the rocks and one boat even overturned onto the harbour itself. It took weeks to clean up the mess the seaweed and destroyed stock caused." His voice sounded nostalgic as he turned back to Kivari, resting his left hand against the pommel of his sword.
"What are we even doing in this Maker-forsaken corner of Ferelden, again?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably in his armour - thought, admittedly, Kivari seemed to be doing worse in the relentless rain, the sort of fine mist that seemed to drench anything left outside in a matter of moments. At least most of the weather rolled off of his armour. "Ah- perhaps setting up a camp before we deal with that is wise. Out of this weather?"
TO SPREAD POSITIVITY.
;; I challenge all of you to send me URLs! Send me URLs of your Tumblr crushes, your best friends, strangers you like to see on your dash. Send me any URL you want, and Iâll talk about the things I like about them and their blog. You can do this on or off anon, it makes no difference, just send me URLs you want me to praise. just put âpositivityâ in the beginning of the ask and Iâll know what to do.
[screams loudly into a cup]
quietly points to my recently converted personal corvinuscorvus
Such tenacity is only rewarded with pain in her instances. His own is rewarded with the possibility of a wavering mind and an agreement made tonight, or in the future given he doesnât lose interest. âTis the mind of a demon after all. Isiliden played with his food and sometimes he didnât want it anymore after.
âYou deserve to be happy, darling. Your happiness is yours, and anything that denies you said happiness, be it morals or a person or a situation, is not in the right. You should be happy and free of worry.â
She closed her eyes. She couldn't believe she was even going to ask this, but ...
"What is it you're offerin'... exactly? Happiness... it's a bit... vague."
Whilst she asked what he's offering, it was clearly a thin veil for another question hidden just under the surface of the original question: what are you planning?; will it hurt me?; and more importantly, are you planning any tricks? Or, more specifically, she wanted to know what she gained to lose from it. Offering her happiness is all well and good, but deals never came without a sacrifice, and she wanted to know just how painful this demon's pound of flesh was to part with. He didn't want to possess her, he'd said that, and she'd met demons before who didn't want to either. So what does he want?
And it wasnât as if her original question didnât stand on its own as well. She wanted to hear him say, in plain words, just what he was willing to give her.
And then she'd decide whether it was worth the risk she runs.
             âI donât give a shit.â
She marched up to him, teeth gritted hard enough to hurt. Demon or not, she could already feel his arrogance: and she hated the arrogant. Always thinking they were above everyone else, like by some ridiculous arbitary system, they were just the best. It was ridiculous.
âJust stay out of my way. I donât give a shit what you have to say to me, and I will fuck up your day if you donât leave me alone.â
Satisfied with her threat, she stepped away again and marched past him.
Lokiâs eyes narrowed briefly. Dissatisfication could not begin to describe his sensation to her answer. He had to laugh at her primitive demanour. It was a dark laugh; low and filled with a malice which had tainted the Godâs once light-hearted tone. He knew not exactly when he gave up on his humanity as the midgadians would call it, it was something lost over the millenia of lurking in the shade of Thorâs greatness. Kindness was tossed away for jealously and greed and and anger and grief.Â
âYour meager threats mean nothing to me.â He said, turning around to follow her suit. He was watching her closely, as if curious about her existence. Perhaps he felt challenged? perhaps he was aroused by the idea of showing her what REAL POWER can do.
âAnd where will you go? You wander in space unknown to both humanity and gods, yet you walk with false confidence into the dark.â
"Arrogant tosser," she muttered, low enough that he might only just catch the whisper of it if he was listening hard enough.
"I don-"
Just as he asked her where she'll go, she caught sight of the sky, and realised with a jolt she could no longer see the Black City. The boat-shaped floating fortress she was used to seeing imprinted on the sky was gone - and so was her only compass that might lead her back to Trevaylan, Loghain and the others.
But if it's not here, she realised, then this was not the Fade.
He was not a demon.
And she was not nearly as safe as she thought she was.
If this was the Fade, and he was a demon, her will was her strength - and of that, she has plenty. But if she's not in the Fade, will was only useful against mind-bending mages. She'd have to hope that her other strengths - physical and magical - are enough, should he turn hostile.
"Gods?" Her nose crinkled between her eyes as she turned back to face him, lip curling in disgust. So was that was he thought he was? A God? That was why he was so arrogant? She rolled her eyes, patience wearing thinner by the second. Lost outside the Fade, and now confronted with someone claiming to be a God? It was little wonder she felt irate, and that was before factoring in her terrible social skills and self-preservation instinct. The only reason she didn't laugh at him was because the rest of her situation was a little grim, and humour felt a little inappropriate. "Oh, just fuck off already, before I do scorch your hide. I don't wanna hear any more of the crap you have to come up with."
    âI make friends that way,â The mage replied with a good humored grin, little wrinkle to the nose, âMore than willing to help. I have no where to be any time soon so my schedule is fairly clear to help someone out.â He winked at her and watched her struggled for a few moments. He didnât know much about magebane, only enough about poisons in his first year in Kirkwallâs Dark Town.Â
    âDo you think a lyrium potion would help?â Garrett asked, sympathetic to Brookâs situation. Well regardless if it helped or not, he still opened his burlap bag and dug through it. It only had a few articles of clothing to change in, a worn out blanket that didnât do any good in really rough and cold temperatures, a potion bag and rations. Not much he was afraid, he left a good majority of stuff with Fenris, feeling like the elf could use it more than himself. At least the blanket was dry, and he pulled that out.
    âNot much. This thingâs old but maybe you can warm up a bit in it?â Hawke offered with a now concerned smile. Garrett, youâre too soft sometimes.
I make friends that way, Garrett said, and Brook huffed. Risking his neck for little gain? That sounded like someone familiar. Oh, yes - her, back when she was a little younger and a little more open hearted. And stupid. Â She guessed if they really were related, really were family, she could see the similarities in the way they acted. The difference between them being that time had scorched away a lot of Brook's kindness. Experience warned her against acts of charity these days. Â "I'll keep it in mind."
She thought about his question a moment, and then shook her head. "Any magic the lyrium'd help me regenerate, the magebane'd suck dry. Nah. Best just to wait until the magebane's out of my system and it comes back on its own." She shrugged a little, helplessly. Sheâd learned the futility of fighting against magebane years ago.
"Garrett Hawke, you are Maker-sent," Brook muttered as she readily accepted the blanket he offered her, bundling herself up. It was worn, sure, but when her clothes stuck to her skin and made the slight draft still coming into the shack all the worse, it at least protected her from getting any colder. "Thank you. Oh Maker, I'd be so fucked right now if it weren't for you."
free ?? time ???????????? what is this and what do i do with it
