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actually a fun part of having been in hp fandom while the books were still coming out was seeing all the fanfic that got updated with ‘WELL I GUESS THIS IS AN AU NOW’ when a new book came out and destroyed all their expertly-crafted headcanons and theories

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I know you and Feynites have said that people go to the Pleasure District for things other than sex. I was wondering if Melarue had any customers like that?

Senhlen comes to them for quiet. 

Not the cavernous silence of an empty room, where she spends her days as a lorekeeper for Lord Dirthamen, but the gentle, comforting silence of companionship. She lays her head in Melarue’s lap and closes her eyes, and sighs softly as Melarue cards gentle fingers through her hair. 

Melarue dims the lights, and muffles the magic in the room meant to stimulate, so that there is nothing to keep Senhlen from drifting peacefully to sleep. 

Sometimes Senhlen does, and other days she simply curls into Melarue, touch-starved and weary, and Melarue does what they can to put her at peace, away from the secrets and the need to know and look and remember. 

The two never speak, not so much as a whispered greeting.

Melarue leaves the window open, so the two can feel the soft, cool breeze of a fine spring day, and smell the magnolia blossoms drifting in the courtyard. 

A simple thing, this silence, and a simple pleasure that Melarue appreciates.

—

Sorry it’s so short! There are others who also come to Melarue for other things aside from sex even though that is what they are most sought out for. One of June’s smiths comes to them for deep body massages, and one of Ghilan’nain’s higher ups comes to listen to them play the harp and to talk. Melarue doesn’t have many clients, as they are very busy with their job as the manager of the Pleasure District. Only those of equal rank or higher can come to them for a session, so very high-ranking servants of the Evanuris or the Evanuris themselves. 

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Prepare yourselves

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Looking glass by @feynites

“I am sorry. I did not mean to worry you,” she says.

He lets out a broken huff, just short of hysterical.

“They all said you would die,” he tells her. “The best healers are tending Mythal, and I could get none of them to see to you. The ones who came all said you would die. I was going to… I do not even know. Do something foolish, I suppose. I could not even find your mind in the Fade, until the end.”

—

Procreate has been updated and now i have to adjust all brushes again…

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I often wonder what happened to authors of unfinished fanfictions.

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Warden: I just want to save the world…. go home……. take a nap for two decades……….. pet a few dogs maybe……..

Hawke: I’ve known those people for two hours but if anything happened to them i’d kill everyone in this city and then myself

Inquisitor: what the fuck. What the fuck. WHAT the fuck. What the FUCK. wHAT THE FUCK!! What in the fuck! Is going on!!

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Another meme? So soon? I shouldn’t have

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When you try to censor pornography, even in the interests of protecting vulnerable people, that censorship will be applied first, and hardest, against the people who are most vulnerable. They won’t come for actual abusers, they’ll come for the abused.

The whole POINT of this essay is to illustrate the problem where people’s good intentions (i.e. ‘let’s stop the spread of child pornography’) get twisted, in actual practice, by those who turn around and immediately target LGBT+ communities with censorship measures instead.

You know. The same way that legislation regarding sex work somehow conveniently never takes the actual opinions of sex workers into account while ~protecting~ them by throwing ‘em in jail.

This isn’t about kink.

Censorship is very easy to abuse, and always comes at the cost of letting someone else make assessments on your behalf, or on behalf of others. That’s why it has to be used sparingly, and often does not logically follow even the most intense forms of criticism or disdain. We know censorship is preferable to some stuff (generally speaking stuff that’s already illegal, like child porn and hate speech), but it’s a very specific and risky tool to invoke. Proponents of censorship often operate under the assumption that their own values would be the guideline for its deployment. That it will be used ‘reasonably’ and with ‘common sense’. But a lot of times you cannot ever guarantee that the person doing the censorship is on the same moral/ethical page as you, and since one needs control of a situation in order to censor it, the process almost invariably favours people in power, rather than the disenfranchised.

People in power are usually the ones already perpetuating abuses, and already capable of skirting around any new ‘rules’ they make anyway.

Even if you really loathe and despise something, censorship is a very particular type of action to take against it, which may or may not even be effective against a particular problem. For example, illegal content is already skirting efforts to curtail it; and will continue to do so, as the porn bots using the ‘sfw’ tag to defeat tumblr’s algorithms ably demonstrate. Censorship requires you to trust the judgement of the person who is in charge of the censoring, in order to actually do you any good. It empowers another person or organization to filter the information you come into contact with on your behalf.

It’s like asking a stranger to blindfold you and lead you through a forest.

Maybe every once in a blue moon that’s the best solution to a dilemma, but for the most part, it’s probably not something you want to encourage. Even if the forest is full of shit you understandably don’t want to see, maybe listen when people tell you that the mysterious guides have a notorious habit of leading people off of random cliffs, too.

Censorship is a tool that gives power to abusers

Thread here. 

Read  Defending Pornography: Free Speech, Sex, and the Fight for Women’s Rights by Nadine Strossen

Excerpts:

“In the late 80s and early 90s there was a vocal group of radical feminists who believed that pornography inherently harms women, not just in its production but also in its consumption… These anti-pornography feminists teamed up with the religious right and managed to get anti-porn laws passed. In particular, a law was passed in Canada preventing the importation of “obscene” material”..

…. Guess what was seized first? “The Joy of Gay Sex” and the like. Guess what businesses started finding all their shipments seized or delayed – sexually explicit or not – to the point where they were being put out of business? Gay bookstores.  Guess what wasn’t seized at all? Mainstream porn made for straight men…..

Here’s the key point: Strossen is a legal scholar who’s looked at a lot of attempts at censorship, and you know what she found happened every time? When you try to censor pornography, even in the interests of protecting vulnerable people, that censorship will be applied first, and hardest, against the people who are most vulnerable. They won’t come for actual abusers, they’ll come for the abused, and prevent them from accessing resources, education, talking to each other, creating art to express themselves, or organising against those who are actually causing harm. 

This is old, old business, we’ve seen it more than once before, and it never goes the way the antis think it will. Censorship is a tool that gives power to abusers and lets them inflict more harm on those who are abused, vulnerable and discriminated against. Don’t fall for it.

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Censorship is a tool that gives power to abusers

Thread here. 

Read  Defending Pornography: Free Speech, Sex, and the Fight for Women’s Rights by Nadine Strossen

Excerpts:

“In the late 80s and early 90s there was a vocal group of radical feminists who believed that pornography inherently harms women, not just in its production but also in its consumption… These anti-pornography feminists teamed up with the religious right and managed to get anti-porn laws passed. In particular, a law was passed in Canada preventing the importation of “obscene” material”..

…. Guess what was seized first? “The Joy of Gay Sex” and the like. Guess what businesses started finding all their shipments seized or delayed – sexually explicit or not – to the point where they were being put out of business? Gay bookstores.  Guess what wasn’t seized at all? Mainstream porn made for straight men…..

Here’s the key point: Strossen is a legal scholar who’s looked at a lot of attempts at censorship, and you know what she found happened every time? When you try to censor pornography, even in the interests of protecting vulnerable people, that censorship will be applied first, and hardest, against the people who are most vulnerable. They won’t come for actual abusers, they’ll come for the abused, and prevent them from accessing resources, education, talking to each other, creating art to express themselves, or organising against those who are actually causing harm. 

This is old, old business, we’ve seen it more than once before, and it never goes the way the antis think it will. Censorship is a tool that gives power to abusers and lets them inflict more harm on those who are abused, vulnerable and discriminated against. Don’t fall for it.

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Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale is responsible for the Tumblr Titty Ban but both took credit for it when speaking to their respective superiors

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Is now a bad time to mention I actually don’t hate this site? I hate the owners. Hate the staff. Hate the incompetence of whoever is in charge here.

But I love the site, love the format, love my mutuals, my followers and all of the amazing content creators here. I don’t know what I’ll replace this with if anything.

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Selene.

 Dirthamen knows that name.

 Selene Lavellan in full, he believes. Though he has never met the owner of this name, so it takes him a moment to make the connection. His father spent much of his childhood attempting to betroth him to the daughter of one of his old friends, however. Only redoubling his efforts after the girl in question successfully beat the tar out of Falon’Din.

 His brother had not been amused.

 Dirthamen is not aware that any betrothal contract had actually been formalized, but his father tends to be negligent with his paperwork, so this is not too unusual. He reflexively takes hold of the bouquet that has been shoved into his chest. The flowers look somewhat wilted, but artfully arranged.

 Selene stands at the threshold, awaiting his response.

 “My apologies,” he says. “I was not aware that the arrangement was due at this time. The paperwork must have been misplaced.”

 There is a moment of silence. Selene hesitates.

 Oh. Manners, of course.

 Dirthamen moves aside and gestures towards the interior of the Evanuris manor.

 “Please come in,” he invites.

 With a deep inhale, and then a gusty exhalation, Selene squares her shoulders and crosses the threshold.

 She is an aesthetically interesting elf, Dirthamen decides, taking a moment to observe her. The light in the front foyer is very good. Her white hair is tied back in a casual ponytail, and she is tall; nearly as tall as he is. She is not wearing heels, either. Just a set of traditional Dalish footwraps, along with a leather jacket that looks as though it has seen better days, and a set of faded work pants with patches across the knees. She is long-legged and sharp-featured, and has a bandage on one of her thumbs.

 There are dark circles beneath her eyes.

 Dirthamen is not certain, but he believes it is a fairly long trip between the city and Elrogathe’s residence in the Lavellan Reserve.

 “I can take your coat,” he offers.

 Selene fidgets with the bandage on her thumb.

 “I, uh, I realize I’m probably not… expected…” she says.

 “A call ahead would have been customary, but the guest rooms are always sufficiently stocked,” Dirthamen assures her. She looks at him intently for a moment, before averting her gaze. He wonders if he is being awkward. Would it be appropriate to invite her to his office to discuss the pertinent details of their betrothal? Or, no, he recollects some of his sister’s lectures on etiquette.

 “I believe it is customary to offer rest and refreshment after a long trip,” he says. “Let me show you to a room, and have the kitchen prepare you something. Our on-staff cook is here today.”

 Selene stares at him for a moment, shaking her head before transforming the gesture into a nod. He takes it as acquiescence, and, abandoning the matter of her coat, leads her upstairs instead.

 He is not certain if it is fortunate or not that he is the only person home at present. His brother is in jail again, Andruil is at her hunting lodge, and Sylaise is currently traveling on charity work with her fiance. His father is still laid up at the hospital, recovering from his most recent surgery. He informs Selene of these facts as he escorts her to the nearest available guest room. She is quiet, until he gets to the topic of his father.

 “Elgar’nan’s been sick?” she asks.

 “Yes,” Dirthamen confirms. “He does not like it widely known, so I cannot say more than that.”

 “...Oh. Uh. I’m sorry, in that case,” Selene offers, stiltedly.

 Dirthamen tilts his head in acceptance of the sentiment.

 “Will this room suffice?”

 Selene looks at it, and if he were to venture a guess as to her manner, he would venture to say she is ‘uncertain’. After a few minutes, however, she simply nods and murmurs some thanks. Dithering for a moment, as if she might say something more, before she seems to hesitate and stop herself instead. Her gaze lands on the flowers, and then on his face.

 Dirthamen supposes his lack of reciprocal gesture is awkward.

 “Since you were not expected, I do not have a bouquet prepared,” he says. “I will remedy the situation. Please feel free to recuperate from your trip while I attend to some matters. The in-house phone line can connect you to the kitchen. I’ll inform them to expect to deliver service to your room, so whenever you like, simply call down and request something. The kitchen is line ‘2’.”

 “...Uh,” Selene says.

 Dirthamen waits for further response.

 “...Thanks,” she finally murmurs, and steps uncertainly into the guest room. It is one of the more spacious ones, typically used by June during his visits. Dirthamen inclines his head, and then carefully shuts the doors behind her, before he turns and heads down the corridor, and up another flight of stairs. To his at-home office. Most of his father’s paperwork is also there, relocated after his first collapse.

 As promised, Dirthamen informs the kitchens that there is a guest. It is fortunate that the staff is working today, they only really come in twice a week to prepare meals when the manor is so sparsely occupied. Dirthamen primarily subsides on reheated offerings, which suits him, but now there is a guest to consider. He informs the housekeeper, who is better suited to handling such matters as well, and then sets about locating and sorting through some of Elgar’nan’s old files.

 It takes him the better part of an hour to locate the betrothal contracts, and then to sort through them to find the pertinent offers to Elrogathe Lavellan. His father attempted many contracts, for each of his children; and received more than a few offers, in turn. Mostly for Falon’Din and Andruil. Dirthamen sifts through until he finds all of the records with his own name on them.

 The latest seems to have been made on his thirteenth birthday. Unfortunately, he cannot find Elrogathe’s reply - in point of fact he cannot find any of Elrogathe’s replies. Knowing his father, he likely stored them in another office or possibly a desk that he lit of fire in a fit of pique at some point. There are many record gaps thanks to his uncomplimentary habits towards physical paperwork and spontaneous combustion.

 However, since there are no further offers, Dirthamen’s most reasonable assumption is that this is the one which was accepted. He will have to verify with Selene, and firm up the contract and agreements for the lawyers, as well as assess any contracts she brought with her. To begin with, Dirthamen decides to compose a draft based on the most up-to-date offer, for re-signing. He keeps the original with his father’s signature as well, of course - a copy would have been sent to Elrogathe.

 The dowry is generous, but reasonable for this sort of thing. His family owns a considerable parcel of farmland right next to the Lavellan Reserve, that would be bequeathed to Selene, along with one hundred thousand dollars in cash payment to Elrogathe, and two hundred thousand that would be set aside into a private fund for Selene, contingent upon the marriage lasting a minimum of four years. There is also a childbirth contract, though after a moment, Dirthamen opts not to include it in his redraft. His father habitually incorporates those into marriage contracts, but they are considered archaic and also technically illegal now.

 He makes several calls to his lawyers, who seem strangely perturbed by the matter, and by the time he has finished the redraft to his satisfaction, another hour has passed. A call down to the kitchens reveals that Selene has yet to request food. Dirthamen supposes she is still resting.

 He decides to attend to a few other work matters, before checking in after another hour has passed.

 By the time it is four in the afternoon, however, Selene still has not contacted the kitchens. Dirthamen wonders if there is something wrong with his conduct, so he gathers up the contracts, and makes his way to the guest room.

 Dirthamen knocks on the door.

 There is a long pause. But Selene does answer, after a moment. She looks at him, and smiles.

 “Hi,” she says. “Hi, hello, uh, Dirthamen. You know, it’s occurred to me that this was probably, definitely a bad idea… and, um…”

 Dirthamen presents her with the re-drafted contract.

 “...What’s this?” she asks.

 “My apologies,” he says. “I could not locate your father’s reply to the most recent offer which my own made, in terms of betrothal contracts, so I drafted a proposal based on that offer. It’s only a preliminary step, however, and if you have paperwork which contradicts these terms, I will be pleased to renegotiate.”

 Selene blinks at him.

 Dirthamen waits, holding the contract. After a moment, Selene looks down at the paper. One of her hands comes up, as if by habit, and takes hold of it. She withdraws back into the guest room. Given that she makes no move to shut the door between them, Dirthamen takes it as an invitation, and heads inside as well.

 Selene has left a bag slumped next to one of the sitting room chairs, and opened the doors to the bedroom. The guest suite has its own bathroom as well, of course, and tall windows that overlook the back garden of the estate. Selene tightens her ponytail and worries her teeth over her bottom lip as she reads the contract.

 Her eyes seem to grow larger as she goes.

 After a moment, she stops, and settles a finger over one portion of it.

 “What does this mean?” she asks him. “This ‘four year’ thing, with the two grand?”

 “It means that a fund of two-hundred thousand dollars will be set aside for you, but will not be accessible until we have been married for four years,” Dirthamen says.

 “What… why?” Selene asks him.

 He considers.

 “I am not well-versed in the particulars of these contracts,” he admits. “But likely it is an offer of insurance, that so long as the marriage is viable, you will have independent funds? And the possibility of divorcing in confidence after a sufficient ‘trial period’ has passed.”

 “Trial period?” she murmurs. “Four years is a trial period?”

 “Our ancestors likely felt so,” Dirthamen opines. “And our parents are traditionalists, I believe.”

 Frowning, Selene looks back down at the contract.

 Then she looks at him.

 Then at the contract again.

 Then at him again.

 “I’m sorry, but… do you want to marry me?” she asks him. “We kind of just met. Didn’t we?”

 “I believe so,” he confirms. “Do you have any paperwork that would contradict these terms?”

 Selene glances at her bag, and then skims over the contract in her hands.

 “Nope,” she says, popping the ‘P’. “These terms are definitely better. Sufficient. I mean, they’re good, no contradictions here.” Once again, her gaze alights onto him. It lingers on his face, and then tracks down his chest. Dirthamen gives her a similar inspection. He had never really considered marriage before. There hadn’t seemed to be much point. Either his father would successfully arrange something for him, or it would likely never happen. The odds of Dirthamen wooing a partner for himself were always very low, despite Sylaise’s insistence that he would do ‘just fine’ if he ‘put himself out there’.

 He has never been good at ‘putting himself out there’.

 However, he does not think there is anything objectionable about Selene.

 After a moment, she puts the contract onto the sitting room table, and settles a hand on top of it. Then she lets out a deep breath.

 “Okay, cards on the table,” she says. “I want this contract to go through because if it doesn’t, I’m probably going to end up marrying someone else. Who I do not want to marry. I know we haven’t met, but, I’m going to go out on a limb here and hope you’re a better option than him.”

 Dirthamen blinks.

 “Is he very terrible?” he wonders.

 Selene chuckles, but he does not think she is amused.

 “Yeah,” she confirms. “He’s very terrible. So I know why I’m here. But why are you down for this?”

 “What do you mean?” he asks.

 Selene gestures towards himself and the room around them.

 “You’re a rich, beautiful man who doesn’t seem to be actively possessed,” she says. He suppresses a flinch on that last point. “Why would you want to marry a stranger who just showed up on your doorstep?”

 Dirthamen considers his answer carefully.

 “...I am not socially adept,” he explains.

 A long moment of silence follows his confession.

 Selene narrows her eyes.

 “Are you a serial killer or rapist?” she asks him.

 “No,” he says. That does not strike him as an unreasonable question. He wishes more people would ask his brother that, before going to motels with him. Though possibly, Falon’Din would not answer honestly.

 Selene stares at him a moment longer.

 Then she reaches into her coat pocket, and produces a black ballpoint pen.

 “Where do I sign…?”

Prompt if you want one: Every time Selene goes with Elrogathe into Arlathan, widowed Elgar'nan offers increasingly valuable things for Selene to marry his son, Dirthamen. Selene has never actually met Dirthamen, but if he's anything like Elgar'nan or his other son, she thinks she'd rather drink paint. But when Elrogathe arranges her marriage to Haleir instead, Selene's only legal recourse is to beat him to the pass by accepting one of Elgar'nan's offers first.

A Last Resort

Dirthamen and the Evanuris family are @feynites

It’s a last resort. The last echo oflight for a dead woman walking.

Or riding, technically. Since she’staking the train and all.

Hopefully this won’t turn out to be atremendous waste of time.

Selene lets out a slow breath, the longstems of the carefully arranged bouquet bending with the tighteningof her hands.

It’s been…five years since she waslast in Arlathan?

Ten, since she was at the EvanurisEstate in person.

And she’s actually never met the personshe’s planning to drop in on.

Keep reading

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people on tumblr linking all the alternative ways everyone can find them like 

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OC Eye Study 1

the first batch of my oc eye study is complete! I really enjoyed doing this (can you guess who is who?) and I think I’ll do at least one more set soon. 

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My prediction for Solas dialogue upon meeting Lavellan again in DA4:

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Holiday fluff for Kasserole? Maybe gift shopping for Wintersend (or whatever gift giving winter holiday Thedas has?)

Kass hates shopping for Melarue.

Okay, okay she doesn’t hate it. But it’s certainly difficult to get something for someone who seems to have everything. And she quite literally means everything. Not to mention Melarue is an incredible gift giver. How they do it, she doesn’t know, but whatever it is, it probably involves using a lot of money.

She stares at a leather messenger bag and tries to think if it’s something they’d like. It’s a medium brown, soft, with some vintage looking buckles on the front. It’s definitely nice, but she thinks they have something very similar. Of course the one they have is better because they picked it out themselves and know exactly what they want. She shakes her head and makes her way to a jewelry store next.

You can’t go wrong with diamonds right?

Except you can definitely go wrong with the diamond price tag. Ouch. She may have a joint bank account with Melarue, they may be married, but spending this much still feels terrifying in a way. It’s a bit scary to think she could blow a few thousand on diamond earrings and still be absolutely okay financially.

Kass then wanders into a designer store she know they like.

“May I help you?” An associate immediately comes up to her and she nods.

“Yes, I am looking for a gift for my spouse. They’re the person who has everything, y’know? They’re very elegant and beautiful, and I want something…them.”

“Oh yes, we just got in a new shipment of scarves. Right off the runway.” He takes her to a rack with absolutely stunning scarves. There is an emerald one with small gold motifs around the ends that resemble scales.

“This is perfect,” she says, imagining them wearing the scarf with one of their coats. They look good in just about everything (especially in nothing) so she knows they will look wonderful in this.

“It is a stunning scarf…” the sales associate goes on to talk as Kass catches sight of the price tag.

“Eight hundred?!” She exclaims, interrupting him.

“Er, yes, of course,” he says as if it’s a reasonable and expected price for a scarf.

“It’s a scarf,” she argues, in shock. Once upon a time, this single scarf would be rent and the power bill. Eight hundred. She glances at the scarf again and sighs. They’re worth it, and she can afford it, she knows.

“Okay,” she says, picking it up. The associate is thrilled as he rings her up. She isn’t having his “and for an extra forty we can wrap it for you!” bullshit though. She’s a big girl, she can wrap the damn scarf herself.

One present down! A few more to go.

She is walking along the market street, heading to her car, when she sees a small stationary store. In the window is a scrapbook, but the pictures in the book are painted, not just photos. Curious, Kass heads in.

There is a cheerful dwarven woman bustling around who greets Kass happily.

“The display with the scrap book, did you paint those?” She asks and the woman nods.

“Yes! It’s a little side thing I do. People give me their pictures and I paint them like those older portraits and put them into a scrapbook.”

“Yes,” Kass says immediately, “that is absolutely perfect.” The woman beams and they start going through the process of selecting the features of the book. They settle on mint-green binding, with six front and back total pages. She wants it to tell their story of falling in love with the pictures she has - all saved on her phone for easy emailing of course. The first half of the book focuses on Kass and Mel, while the last few pages focus on their kids. Ash on a tire swing, Aanda coming home from the hospital, and Aelynthi not just holding his baby sisters, but smiling too.

The total doesn’t even phase Kass this time as she hands over the card. She can’t put a price on these, not for Melarue.

Melarue belongs to @justanartsysideblog

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Okay but it might be worth mentioning that in the LotR books, the Frodo and co. have a fifth friend who got cut from the films, called Fatty Bolger. 

So like, by human standards, this is obviously kind of a mean nickname.

But does that mean they were basically calling him Hot Stuff by hobbit standards...?

More pressingly, is that his given name? Is Fatty Bolger named the hobbit equivalent of Hotty Bigcock? 

hot take: 

Gloin is the sexiest dwarf by dwarf standards.

Kili is the sexiest dwarf by elf standards.

Thorin is the sexiest dwarf by human standards

& Bombur is the sexiest dwarf by hobbit standards