#hope this isnt a MESS

[baldursyourgate]

🕯 ⠀

🕯 🕯 ⠀

🕯 kisses from 🕯 ⠀

🕯 my evil wife 🕯

🕯 🕯 ⠀

🕯 🕯 ⠀

🕯 ⠀

[dividedskiesrp]

DIVIDED SKIES: a new warrior cats RP group on Discord set in an original territory!

join fate-focused mistclan, community-focused briarclan, or honor-focused stormclan… who has, as of recently, splintered into a separate clan due to irreconcilable differences. now a fourth clan, dawnclan, has formed—if you've ever wished to roleplay the formation of a new group and its cultural identity from the ground up or play out all the politics involved in that, look no further!

with no strict activity requirements, DIVIDED SKIES is meant to be an easygoing roleplay; if you're an adult with a job and no time to write silly little cats more than once or twice a month, there's certainly no judgment here!

high ranks are available—fill out an application to join with our first wave now! signups will close on JUNE 12th, 2024!

[fawfulydoo]

so i spilled water on my computer yesterday and took it apart to dry... now it won't turn on 💀 not only that but my wacom pen has been acting up and skipping lines a lot. i researched it and ordered another one so i unfortunately can't do any digital art until both are fixed 😭 i have a bunch of sketchbook stuff i could scan and edit on my phone so hopefully that will suffice for now...

[splankie]

call me a jasonologist if you will

[steveshairychest]

Eddie who grew up on 'Bewitched' reruns and now is a bit of witchcraft geek. He knows different herbs and a couple of Latin words and jokingly puts mystic references in his songs. High school jock Steve heard the rumors about Munson boy being satanic cult leader but didn't believe it until feels like Eddie is bewitched' him after they share a joint at some random party.

anon I love this im giggling and kicking my feet

Steve's heard the rumours about Eddie, he's seen the Latin words scribbled on the one notebook he uses in every class, he's felt something akin to lightning under his skin whenever he looks at Eddie.

These things have Steve convinced the rumours are true. Some people say he's a witch, some say he sold his soul to the devil and others think he's not human at all. Steve knows there's definitely something up. He can't stop thinking about him; the way he smiles, the way he winks at Steve in the hallway. It all makes his heart race and his cheeks heat up. It has to be some sort of spell.

And then the party happens. Eddie holds a joint out to him with a raised brow and, unable to say no, Steve takes it from him; trying not to think about the fact that Eddie's lips were just in the same spot he's putting his own. They pass it back and forth until Eddie squashes the butt out under his boot.

Steve feels floaty, relaxed enough to sit a bit closer to Eddie on the cramped couch they sat on. He radiates a comforting warmth and the way their shoulders press together makes him sigh. He likes being close to Eddie.

"You've put a spell on me." Steve says seriously while staring at Eddie's side profile.

Eddie leans his head on the back of the couch and laughs, it's a beautiful sound that drowns out the trashy top 40 song playing around them. "What?"

Steve leans his head back on the couch as well but turns his head to face Eddie, who mirrors his movement, their noses almost touching as they stare at each other. "You've bewitched me." He whispers. "I can't stop thinking about you. Whatever spell you've put on me, it's made me crazy about you."

Eddie's eyes go wide, his mouth forming a surprised 'o' shape, then it's gone, replaced with a lazy smirk as he leans even closer to Steve. "That's a funny way to say you've got a crush on me, Harrington."

"But I don't." He's searching Eddie's face for something, anything, any sign that he's not crazy. That this is more than him having a crush on someone he shouldn't. "You've done something. I know it."

"Trust me, Steve, we would have kissed by now if I'd put a spell on you."

"Oh." Steve's eyes drop to Eddie's lips. "Maybe it is just a crush."

"Does that scare you?" Eddie whispers. Steve's very aware that they are sitting on the couch in the middle of a crowded party but all of the people around them seem so far away. He wants to lean that tiny bit further and taste the beer on Eddie's lips.

"It terrifies me." He whispers back honestly. "But, like, in a good way."

Eddie smiles, seemingly satisfied with Steve's answer.

Steve leans back so that he can take in the beauty of Eddie properly. His eyes trail over the scar on his top lip, the freckles on his nose, the way his eyes crease with his smile and the blush that stain his cheeks. The more he looks, the more beauty he finds. Eddie really has bewitched him.

[kirkwallguy]

prompt is hmmm least normal conversation between your hawke and varric?

alternatively, putting hawke in their least favorite situations, parties or murder, whichever dreads them more?

TYY you read my mind with this, my hawke had SUCH a messed up relationship with varric. and to combine the prompts, skyhold is basically a saw trap for him. so here's varric and hawke having a terrible conversation about hawke and anders' relationship at herald's rest.

The swill they sold at Herald's Rest, Skyhold's only tavern, was unlike anything Hawke had ever tasted before. In his youth he might have been able to bear it - long nights at The Hanged Man emptying barrels upon barrels of the worst drink Kirkwall had to offer had once been his only hobby. But the past few years had softened him. He wanted warm mead, cheap wine, someone to bring him elfroot tea as he put his feet up.

Varric didn't seem to care. He took a large swig from his tankard as if it was nothing, smacking his lips loudly.

"Maker, that hit the spot." He groaned.

Hawke didn't know what to say in response. He stared around the tavern, observing the other people drinking. They seemed on edge, nervous. It reminded him of that last night at Ostagar, everyone more than aware of the fact that they could die tomorrow. Perhaps that was why he was the only one who wasn't drinking like a fish.

"Hawke?" Varric was saying, "you listening?"

Hawke turned his gaze to Varric, "I'm listening," he grunted, pushing his drink away from him.

"Come on. I know you didn't hear a damn word I said."

Varric was suddenly serious. He sat back in his chair, tilting his chin up and meeting Hawke's eye. In this light, he suddenly looked far older than the man Hawke knew; it was hard to believe it had been a decade since they'd first met. Those first few uncomplicated months before the Deep Roads expedition, before a thousand tiny invisible barriers had begun to worm their way between them, felt simultaneously like a lifetime ago and yesterday afternoon.

"Do we have a problem, Hawke?" Varric asked.

Hawke laughed sharply. "No."

It was unconvincing, Hawke knew that. He watched as Varric picked up his drink and took another steady gulp, eyeing him suspiciously over the rim of his tankard.

Then his eyes drifted down, fixing on Hawke's hand before widening. He swallowed, coughed, reddened, looking for all the world like an Orlesian nobleman who'd just been caught doing something exceptionally unfashionable.

Hawke looked down at his hand. It was the same as ever, scarred and rough, nails bitten short in a habit Anders had always found disgusting.

And, against his worn skin, a single sunbeam in a stormy sky: his ring, once worn by his father and now worn by him. It was one half of a pair. The other half, his mother's, was somewhere far away, on the finger of someone he missed very much.

Varric couldn't stop staring at it. He was no longer red. His face was white, his knuckles even whiter.

"Hawke," he said slowly, "tell me that isn't what I think it is."

If he was honest with himself, Hawke had been anticipating this conversation ever since he'd arrived in Skyhold. If anything, he was surprised it had taken so long for Varric to notice. His gaze had a habit of lingering on him for a moment too long, taking in details nobody else saw.

He twisted the ring around his finger, "it's nothing," he lied.

"Doesn't look like nothing."

Hawke took the ring off and placed it on the table. It wasn't anything fancy, a cheap metal band coated with a thin layer of gold. His mother's ring had a small red gem inlaid in it, so bright it could have been red lyrium, but his father had been spared the frivolity.

"Does this make me your wife?" Anders had joked as Hawke had slipped the ring on his thin finger.

Varric reached out and picked it up, rolling the band around in his palm with a sour expression.

"When was the wedding?" He asked.

"A few years ago."

"Right." Varric said, gritting his teeth, "sure."

Hawke said nothing in response. He held his hand out, waiting for him to give the ring back.

Either Varric didn't notice him, or he pretended not to. He continued to fiddle with it, warming the cool metal in his hands, "were you planning on telling me? Or did my invite get lost somewhere?"

His voice was hard as stone but Hawke was harder. "Nobody was invited," he said, "it was just us."

And Bethany. And The Hero of Ferelden. And a few friends. But Varric didn't need to know that.

"Still," Varric continued to toy with the ring, "you could've written. I would've sent a gift."

Hawke snorted, "a gift for a wedding you don't approve of? The Orlesians are rubbing off on you, Varric."

It was hard for Hawke to keep the irritation from his voice. His patience was wearing thin. He reached out and snatched the ring from Varric's hand, slipping it back on his finger where it belonged.

Neither of them spoke for a long time after that. Hawke let his mind wander, thinking about how he'd tell this story when he got home. Would it make Anders smile? Would Bethany chide him for being too cruel? Or would the three of them sit in silence afterwards, navigating the personal mazes they were more and more often finding themselves lost in.

Varric coughed lightly, "I don't disapprove." He said, so quiet that Hawke barely heard him.

"Pardon?"

"I said, I don't disapprove." He repeated, "of you and Blondie, that is."

He was lying. Hawke felt a fire begin to ignite in his chest, "I read your book," he said sharply, "everyone did. All of Thedas knows exactly what you think."

"It was a dramatised version of events. I've said it a thousand times, Hawke, I'm not a historian-"

"-I'm a storyteller," Hawke finished, mimicking Varric's rough voice, "right."

Another silence. Varric had finished his drink by now but continued to fiddle with the tankard, peering into it every now and then as if hoping more alcohol would materialise if he wanted it badly enough.

Hawke had been maybe a hundred pages into The Tale of the Champion when he'd realised Varric was in love with him. The realisation had come over him like a heart attack, finally hitting after years of creeping up on him. Part of him thought maybe he should have realised sooner. It had, in hindsight, been sickeningly obvious.

When he'd asked Anders for his opinion, he'd had the nerve to laugh. (This had been, of course, when he still knew how to laugh. If Hawke had known how few of Anders' laughs he'd have left, he might not have been so angry. But that's always the way.)

"I was wondering when you were going to figure it out," he'd said, doubling over, "Maker, Isabela and I even had a bet, once."

Did Varric himself even know? Hawke looked at him. He was still staring morosely at his empty drink, a few strands of hair falling in his eyes where they'd come loose from his ponytail. Surely if he knew he would have said something by now. He was never usually quiet about his feelings.

"Varric." Hawke said.

"What?"

"Do you..."

Potential hung in the air, a dagger at the end of his tongue. Hawke could ask his question if he wanted. He could do anything if he wanted; he could ruin everything, he could run all the way home and cower beneath his bed, he could tear his sword from his hilt and see how many Templars he could slaughter before someone cut him down.

But he did nothing. Just as he had done nothing every night since arriving as Skyhold. He continued to sit on the uncomfortable chair at the dirty table, continued to ignore his drink. Varric stared at him with his tired, worn expression. There was a look in his eyes that reminded Hawke shockingly of Anders on the day he'd blown up the Chantry. An acknowledgement of an unavoidable fact and an acceptance of it, the mutual knowledge that Hawke could do anything in that moment and he wouldn't resist.

Just as before, Hawke couldn't go through with it. He dropped the dagger.

"Do you want another drink?" He asked.

Varric avoided his gaze and shrugged. "I think I'm done for the night."

"Sure."

"I'm going to turn in."

He slipped out from the table and into the fray of the crowded tavern, dodging stray elbows and swinging knees. Hawke watched him leave, finished his drink, then took the same path out into the cool night.

[maliciousalice]

👕 & 🍽️? For the trek ask game

Heheh thanks for Asking Meg!!! All aboard another long winded ramble about my wife ST: Voyager!!!!!

👕 Character whose fashion you like.

While I answered in the last one, I think I'll add to it by saying I love the Ds9/Voyager Uniforms--Infact I'm a HUGE sucker for them--At least to me, they feel like THE signature trek costume rather than TNG or TOS ones. Plus, they are fun to draw! I love how they look on the actors with the structured upper half, and loose, high-waisted pants that give everyone the illusion of height.

Those that are dressed in the uniform are portrayed with a respectable heft and a pleasant, overall shape. I know it's not the case, but they look like they are really practical. This is fully intentional as the lead costume designer said they wanted the suits to appear modular and have advantages in different environments. That's why sometimes they are unzipped or twisted around, depending on the narrative.

I could go on and on about them. I act feral over how they look when when all the actors stand together, turned in various ways, posing so that that folds pucker on their joints, or when subtle differences in their body sizes take up screen. It just looks so cool! I'm a big fan of squad-based, colour-coded uniforms and clean silhouettes.

Most importantly though, it gives them all BODY-ODY-ODY!!!

AYO WHICH LOCATION THEY AT??? CW: GORILLA DUMPIES!!! 👀👀👀 😳😳😳😳

🍽️What alien food/drink would you want to try?

I wish I could find the video but I've seen bits and pieces about how they designed the food on the sets and I think it's super charming!

Lots of effort went into considering the cuisine. It just about decorates every set and It was important to the show. Voyager engaged in a lot visual gags, or dialog discussing food. It was in a comforting way that would present the characters with their personal ideals of home.I find that subtext of world-building really endearing.

Many scenes involved characters bonding in the mess hall, socializing around food, or isolating with it to gain a sense of self. In contrast, it's used as a device for diplomacy, or to make settings seem more alien, unnavigated and removed from regular comforts. It's even incorporated into main plot points, such as with Tuvok in ''Riddles'', when he gains a newfound skill around cooking after a serious accident, and he solves the plot by decorating a code on a cake. Through food, we saw a lot of what it could be like to be a crew member on the ship, and live inside their Universe. It wasn't always pretty but they made it work.

We have a really rich food bowl and diverse food-culture In Australia, I love noticing exotic food that are used as set decoration of as props--I am used to seeing tropical fruit or Asian ingredients around my community, so it's fun to see it transformed. And much like the characters in Voyager, I relate to the comfort and the charting of new territories when it comes to seeing/ eating food.

I suspect being a chef / working in hospitality would be an interesting occupation in Trek. Everyone complains about the lack of authenticity from replicated food, so I'm sure being a good Chef would be worth your while.

I genuinely want to try Old-mate Neelix's cooking. He seems so creative and passionate about what he plates up, and he CLEARLY (they all put on weight haha) kept the crew well-fed. ''Bitches make do'', but you can tell he cares by the questions he askes everyone, or the detail he places into his recipes. I'd like to see what all the fuss is about with Leeola Root Stew. I bet it's not that bad! (I like bitter food) Or better, serve me up a Jimbalian Fudge cake! It's so quaint how there is an evolution to his work as he gets more integrated with everyone.

(crying over this ^) Neelix Nation Rise Up!!!!

[taikanyohou]

kiekoi is getting a thai remake so naturally it'd be the perfect time for those who havent watched the original japanese live action of it to witness and watch the biggest bisexual disaster in bl history aoki, his gay autistic boyfriend ida, and their bestest friends and cutest couple hashimoto and aida and kieta hatsukoi and the perfection that it is!!!!

[viridianz]

dashboard unfucker has stopped working for me and i forgot how completely dogshit the new layout is. help me

[bunnihearted]

🐰🩹🧸🏨

[lesbianaelwen]

oh so this has been in development for a WHILE

[feline-evil]

Now we're nearing the end of my move (fucking finally) i can safely say that if i had not had the Song of Salvation on repeat for large stretches of time during this i do not think i would've made it through as well as i have

[rata-novus]

mighty nein special during the applebees solstice probably rescuing beau and caleb. no one look at me. no one touch me. im gonna THROW UP oh my god.

[aliengirl]

can you imagine if i messed up and Rhea ended pregnant but not with the Winner's baby

[dahldahlbills]

this was a gift for @jelliedoodles and now i shall offer it to y’all in these trying times 🤲

[lemonstangerine]

drawtectives season 2 cast part two