#i was gonna do something more polished

[trashcantasch]

He is hopelessly in love

Fireworks prompt for terraqua summer splash :)

[gatoiberico]

parfait pals

[ph-cutie]

trustworthy interviewees

nonshiny version belowcut

[reluctantlyanimating]

First day of doomsday!!

A lot of the stuff I'll be posting for doomsday is kind of old 😭 but i wanna use the pieces I have that ARE themed around a certain book on whichever days I can, so this one is an oldish piece of Hiccup and Merciless :]

[sergle]

FOREWARNING FOR GROSS-OUT SKIN CLOSEUP SHIT DON'T YELL AT ME FOR SHOWING YOU has anyone else gotten this really weird phenomenon on youtube. I swear every algorithm on every website is actively and purposely worse now. Where you'll be scrolling through vids after searching for something (I was looking at crochet stuff) and SANDWICHED IN THE MIDDLE OF ACTUAL SEARCH RESULTS... YOU KNOW. LIKE THINGS RELEVANT TO THE KEYWORDS I TYPED

are a couple of completely out of left field SHOCK VALUE VIDS. like to intentionally be alarming. drama vids and things you're enticed to click on bc they're upsetting, and deep deep closeups on zits. what the fuck is going on. Sandwiched between videos about GRANNY SQUARES. crack? is it crack we're smoking????

[mouseinsweater]

welcome to the station crew. enjoy your stay!

[giantkillerjack]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

[j-esbian]

(one of) the most frustrating parts about the portrayal of drow society is that it wants to create Reverse Sexism without uncoupling itself from some. pretty foundational patriarchal ideas. it ascribes to the (tired, essentialist) notion that men are inherently good at certain things, and women are inherently suited for different things

but rather than the basic subversion of “women are warriors and men are the homemakers” or even early feminist thought experiments like “traditionally ‘women’s priorities’ are given importance over ‘men’s’ (ie things are governed by council, importance is placed on childrearing, etc)”, menzoberranzan is “this society still holds to patriarchal values and women are not as good at these things which is why it’s demonstrably worse”.

the biggest tell is that they have to control the male population to maintain female dominance, the implication being that in a fair fight, men would easily overpower them. it assumes the misogynist ideas as fact that “women are inherently weaker” and also “women are duplicitous” so the drow fighting style is based on stealth and sabotage rather than “”honorable”” face- to-face combat (letting lie also the assumption that the only avenue for ambition is through military violence, and therefore still making it so that they are reliant on men, even as disposable shock troops, for their success).

the only things that keep women in charge are by stacking the numbers on a systematic level, and through sexual domination on the individual level (because clearly the only real power a woman can have over men is her sexuality).

it is a society where “men act like men” but women don’t act like women; it is evil because an act of god created an aberration against the “natural order” of things, and there is no one to tend the hearth (because if the women won’t do it, no one will)

[flamboyant-king]

My darling friend @quelynxyz and I are doing something silly. I’ve only done pixel art like once so this is pretty cool, dude.

[weirfq1]

lowkey obsessed with the idea of ámbar being so impressed with ana and now actually so self-aware of all the legal issues she might come face-to-face with in the future (since she wants to keep managing the jam & roller and maybe expand it by making it a chain) that she decides that she wants to follow her footsteps and become a lawyer, while nina becomes so popular as felicityfornow that the fab&chic asks her for help (at first with small stuff like captions for their posts and maybe an interview) but after that they decide to "get some free clout out of her" by analysing felicity's style or something similar (since nobody ever saw felicity in the flesh, except for them [kinda] since they interviewed her on a videocall) and people become so obsessed with it that they try to convince felicity to write an become part of the fab&chic (while still doing things that align with her work tho) as a way to collaborate.

Since she doesn't feel like "she's good with fashion or anything adjacent to it" she tries to kindly rejects the idea but they don't give up and it kinda escalate to the point in which she only agrees to get over with it.

The only alteration is that she can and has to decide what she wants to do for this collaboration and they can reject her ideas until they agree on something together but they can't force her to do anything, they agree and she chooses to write an article (i haven't yet decided on what specifically)

Nina does what she does best. Uses the informations she knows through her own lectures, researches and also tries to remember all of jim and yam's and her mother's ramblings about sewing (which is something she's not that bad at, even tho she doesn't actively uses this skill or make any clother, just small repairs when she needs to) and just uses her words to talk about it openly and honestly with her own point of view.

And it fucking works.

It works way too well.

Fab&Chic's fans loves it and keep sharing it, it becomes so viral that she actually has now a small spot on their blog for her articles.

A few months later other media outlets about mode and fashion reach out (both to her and the fab&chic) to ask for an appointment to talk about hypothetical collaboration, send some products for them to try and review or to congratulate her for her "debut" in the fashion world.

1 year and a half/2 years later she's suddently not only a writer and a poet but a rookie fashion editor on the side (at least for her, because it doesn't matter how much she loves and enjoys being a fashion critic, writing in general will always be her first love)

[ghostwise]

ironbark, opal, and gold

words: 1.6k tags: zevran arainai, mahariel, zevran/m!warden, wedding rings, antiva, original characters, fluff

The jeweler’s shop is smaller than expected. Every surface is cluttered with tools, and there is a layer of grime along the wall but not the floor, indicating the type of person who only bothers to clean when the mess is actively interfering with their work. Nor does the jeweler have a proper storefront; just his counter, from which he greets Zevran with a nod before remembering he ought to speak to the customers.

This all means one of two things: either the jeweler is a hack, or a genius. But does it matter?

“Buenas, compadre,” the man tells him. He produces from behind the counter a small case of necklaces and bracelets. “Bonifacio, at your service. What can I help you find today?”

Zevran greets him. He glances over the jewelry, noting the traditional hammered Antivan style, the little swirls of silver, all requiring a steady hand.

“Tell me,” he says, “do you make all these yourself?”

“But of course! Finest silver and gold in Antiva, and anything not to your liking, I can alter.”

“Wonderful!” Zevran says, not really looking at any of the items in the case. “How much could I pay you to make use of your workshop for the day?”

The jeweler sets the case down and scowls.

Zevran smiles at him. He’s already been turned away at two other shops and has a few more to go. This time, he tries a bit of coaxing.

“I am getting married,” he confides, and it’s thrilling to share the news, even with a stranger.

“Ah,” Bonifacio says with a sigh. Holding up a finger he walks away from the counter. Moments later he returns with another case, this one full of sparkling rings.

“I see what you are getting at, young man,” he says, “but for something so important, why leave it to chance? Look at this. White gold and diamonds. Amethysts, rubies. Tell me about this girl. What does she like?”

“He is not so gaudy,” Zevran laughs. “My man is not one for gems. What else do you have?”

“Of course, of course! I have such a variety. Let me bring out the men’s rings. Of course.”

He hasn’t been thrown out yet, and that is encouraging. Instead, case after case of rings is brought out for his perusal. Zevran looks at them all, declining every one, and when the last case has been rejected, Bonifacio sighs again.

“Ten andris for the use of the shop,” he says finally. “Plus materials.”

“Thief,” Zevran scoffs. “I come here with my heart bared and you say ten andris?”

“Nine, then.”

“Has anyone even come in before me today? I very much doubt it. Look at the state of this place—you need to mop your baseboards and clean your windows—”

“Alright you bastard, how’s eight andris and you do the cleaning yourself?”

“Deal,” Zevran quickly agrees and thrusts out his hand. It is midday, and he needs this to work.

Haggling concluded, Bonifacio shakes his hand firmly, like a merchant or a noble.

“Now if you could show me to the work room—”

“Not yet,” Bonifacio says. “Tidy up first. Then you pay, then you use the workshop out back.”

“A fair agreement,” Zevran says, unable to keep the grin off his face.

He gets started right away. Organizing as he goes, he cleans efficiently, the way he grew up knowing one speck of dust could mean retaliation. All the while Bonifacio tinkers at the counter, peering through a lens at the broken links in an old necklace. Nobody comes into the shop. But Bonifacio interrogates him, leaving lengthy gaps between each question.

“So when are you getting married?” he asks.

“Ah,” Zevran says, wringing out a washcloth by the window. “Soon.”

“You don’t have a date?”

“We are traveling, and we need to first find a Chantry willing to marry us,” Zevran says.

“Willing?” Bonifacio asks.

“My fiancé,” Zevran says, and the word glimmers like a big ruby, “is Dalish.”

Bonifacio lets out a low whistle. Few Chantries will bless unions with non-Andrastians.

He’s quiet for a while before speaking again.

“Congratulations. And good luck with, uh, all that.”

Zevran pauses, looking up at the man. “Thank you,” he says, not sure what he means exactly.

Bonifacio grunts. A quarter of an hour passes before he speaks up again.

“My wife was Dalish,” he says, unbidden.

Zevran glances over.

“Lovely woman, but not for the city. Always felt like I was keeping a bird caged. We were happy enough. She called me Bon-Bon,” Bonifacio says with a smile. “It’s just different. That’s all I mean. Parents had their opinion, half the town did. It is what it is. Worth it, though. Right?”

It comes out in a rush, as if he’s been dying to talk about it. Zevran watches him, this middle-aged man with fine tools in his hands, still tinkering on the broken necklace. He thinks about the state of the shop, and the lack of clientele.

“What happened to her?” he asks.

“She passed,” Bonifacio says gruffly. “Last year.”

“My condolences,” Zevran offers. “She must have meant a lot to you.”

“Mmh. Yes.”

The jeweler holds up the necklace, now mended. Every broken link has been repaired. Zevran returns to his sweeping, but Bonifacio pushes himself up off the counter.

“Finish up,” he tells him. “Let’s get started on that ring of yours.”

-

Zevran leaves the city with his pockets twenty andris lighter, and a velvet pouch clutched in his hands. He’s worked through the day, and the sun has set when he reaches the campsite far past the outskirts of town.

Hamal is there, stoking the fire, singing to it as he does every night. Zevran pauses just out of sight, listening.

He’s thinking, also, of the old jeweler, and his advice.

By Dalish and Chantry law alike, only Death can undo the vow you’re about to take. Cherish the time you have, my friend.

Zevran wastes no time. He walks directly into the light.

“Ma vhenan,” Hamal says, “there you are.”

Zevran drops to one knee before him and kisses him. Hamal hooks a finger into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s good that they tend to agree on these things. Zevran is the one to finally pull away, only because he can’t rightly give him the ring while attached to his face, can he?

“Hamal,” he says. He holds out the pouch, takes his hand.

“Wait,” Hamal exclaims, and scrambles to his feet.

Zevran blinks, watching him dash off into the tent. He emerges with a rucksack, tearing through it, tugging out pouches and bowstrings and a hat—

“I am not familiar with these customs—I thought we did this at the Chantry, not before—where is it? Oh!”

Whatever he was searching for, he rushes back to Zevran’s side, a wide grin on his face, hair unbraided and eyes dancing.

“Whatever are you doing, love?” Zevran asks. He starts a laugh, and before he knows it he’s overcome by it, enamorado, muy risueño. And Hamal laughs too.

“I thought—well, aren’t we exchanging rings now?”

“You have a ring?”

Hamal nods eagerly, holding it up in the light. It is a little thing of carved ironbark and gold, mottled in brassy colors only a Dalish craftsman could create. Zevran feels like he’s wanted this precise ring his whole life, and only realized it just now.

“It’s beautiful,” he says.

“I traded Master Varathorn for it,” Hamal says, and Zevran stares.

“Varathorn. That was months ago,” he tells him.

“Yes.” Hamal smiles. “The moment I saw it, I knew I wanted it for you. I just wasn’t sure… the Archdemon…” He pauses, unsure how to say this. “I planned to leave it to you. After… In case…”

He can’t say it and Zevran doesn’t want him to.

Zevran quickly takes the ring he’d crafted out of its velvet pouch. “I made this for you,” he says.

It is a simple band of gold inlaid with opal. Zevran turns it and points to the inside of the band, where the words vhenan and corazon are carved, a tiny opal set between them.

Hamal takes a long look at it.

“Here,” Zevran says, taking his hand. “Listen, because I am not sure that I will get it right in the Chantry, and it is more for you, anyway. You are my home. All my life, I never had one or even thought I could find one; yet I have never felt an orphan since meeting you. So there is no alternative for me, you understand? There is nowhere else for me to go, other than wherever you are. I mean that, amor… more than allegiance to any country or creed. Let me declare myself, then, a citizen of You, municipality of a country called Us, of which we two are the sole happy inhabitants.”

Hamal watches him place the ring onto his finger with what can only be described as sincere adoration, the words filling his thoughts like honey.

“I didn’t have a speech prepared,” he says softly. He gives Zevran his ring and kisses it, which suits Zevran just fine.

“Creators! But I cannot fucking wait to marry you, Zevran! Can we do it right now? Quick! Where is the nearest clergy?”

It is lovely to be understood so thoroughly. Zevran could laugh, or kiss him again, or ravish him right then and there. In the absence of a revered mother, and thus forced to wait, he opts for all three.

[em-b-sides]

I think about that tiktok trend where you like paint your partners eye color on your nails or make a bracelet or something with the color a lot actually

[kenobihater]

the last remaining threads of my sanity are slipping through my fingers rn 🚬 😑

[xfindingtrouble]

Just some super super rough sketches from tonight

[solradguy]

Omg how does Interlude have almost as many views as the actual Begin translation???? That's wild.... Thanks guys haha <3

[froghwon]

im obsessed with painting nails again :p