ghostwise

[ghostwise]

EMJOTA STUDIO Corset (click to enlarge) if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways

#oc inspiration: mathuin

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embrace

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am i.. um... am i going to have to do something when we reach 10 straight years of me talking about my warden on this site

#do i get some kind of plaque

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while i did a gifset to showcase an armour set, i was also intrigued by just how different the animation is for the wizard class vs gale's unique animation:

wizard class animation

gale's unique animation

it's amazing to see not only just how quickly gale performs the somatic component of the spell, but also his efficiency of movement compared to the standard wizard animation.

there's a world of difference here, the difference between a wizard vs a prodigy, an archwizard and chosen.

#bg3 #bit show off-y but ok gale <3

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Art by Sion

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Embarrassed that you found a soft spot And if it was a lesson, learned a lot That if it wasn't you then it'd be someone else That'd make things awkward at my holiest haunts Can't help but laugh it off...

#new fav new fav i'm so glad there's a lyric video #music #Youtube

[ghostwise]

5 with zevran and hamal for the kiss prompts!

5. Where it hurts.

Zevran has spent the better part of the evening lounging attractively on his bedroll, daggers and rags laid out to maintain the illusion of productivity, while carefully listening for footsteps.

He never wants to give the impression that he is waiting for Hamal—nevermind that it’s true. It’s the principle of the matter.

So he’s come to expect the Warden’s visits. So they’ve become part of his routine. What would be the point of saying so? He’ll come or he won’t. And so what if he doesn’t?

Eyeing his daggers with a final disappointed look, Zevran leaves his tent and ventures out to Hamal’s.

The cold bites at his ankles as he walks. He hurries forward with no need for light besides what the moon provides, and when he gets there, he nearly bumps headfirst into the man.

“Oh,” Hamal says, and Zevran’s heart skips a beat. “I was just about to come find you.”

“Oh?” Zevran returns, trying not to seem surprised, or gratified, or dizzy with warm happiness at those words. He smoothly interjects with a laugh. “Then it seems my timing was perfect.”

Ducking into the tent, he slides his arms around Hamal’s shoulders and drops into his lap in one smooth motion. And he kisses him, because he’s been wanting to. And Hamal kisses him back. It’s nearly perfect, but Zevran has honed his instincts out of bitter necessity over the years. There is a barely perceptible slowness to Hamal’s hands.

Zevran pulls back after a moment, and regards him through half-lidded eyes. In the dim light, Hamal looks back at him steadily and smiles.

There is so much he has yet to learn of this man.

And yet, Zevran feels he knows him more than half-way already.

“What’s wrong?”

Hamal’s smile falters slightly. He flicks his gaze downward, and sets his hands at Zevran’s waist. Zevran can feel one of this thumbs squeeze at his hipbone in a very distracting way. Is he stalling? There is no need to. Zevran is hardly one to pry. They can just as easily get back to business.

He spreads his legs a little, grinding down, knees bunching up the blanket beneath them. Hamal’s breath comes out in a low rumble.

“Sore,” he says quietly, and gathers him up in his arms. “Mm, but it’s nothing.”

Zevran thinks.

They’d had a fairly uneventful day. The only trouble had been a brief encounter with a pack of wolves and a bear scavenging the remains of a caravan. The bodies had been half-eaten when they’d arrived—far too late to be any help. The wolves had been easily chased off. But the bear had proven more difficult, and was only brought down after some impressive bow shooting on Hamal’s part.

It occurs to Zevran that just because he makes it look effortless, does not mean it is.

He carefully extracts himself from Hamal’s embrace.

“Hey-” Hamal says, about to protest, but Zevran interrupts.

“Where is the pain?”

“It’s… just beneath my left shoulder blade. A pulled muscle. Nothing more.”

“May I have a look?”

“Going to kiss it better, are you?” Hamal chuckles, stretching out on his bedroll. He tugs his shirt over his head and rolls onto his stomach.

Zevran wastes no time, and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. It’s a lovely sight, vallaslin trailing over his muscled back.

“Tell me where it hurts most,” he says. “Here?” He kisses his left shoulder blade. Hamal gives a soft hum. “Here?” He kisses another spot, closer to his diaphragm. “Here?” He kisses the soft angle of his lateral muscle, and Hamal tenses slightly.

“That’s it.”

“Good…” Zevran murmurs. He swings a leg over, and settles atop Hamal’s lower back. “Is this alright?” he asks before he begins.

The question earns a low laugh. “Better than alright.”

Zevran smiles. He’s snagged a bottle of lightly scented oil from Hamal’s pack, and is just about to begin working those sore muscles of his when Hamal sighs, “I’m glad to have met you.”

Zevran stops.

He does not ask, why?

He does not say, you’d be the first.

He looks at the trusting body beneath him, ignores the odd twist in his gut, and the butterflies in his stomach.

He puts his hands on the Warden’s skin.

“Funny that,” Zevran says. “Me, too.”

#next day rb

[ghostwise]

Sorry for the delay in posting I just needed a little bit of a break. In the meantime I hope you like this random portrait I did!

[ghostwise]

“A man who was a crow was traveling. He didn’t know where he had come from or which way he was going. As he moved along he kept on thinking: “How did I come to be alive? Where did I come from? Where am I going?””

— from A Seneca Journal by Jerome Rothenberg. Revised & Expanded Edition due December 3rd from Nine Point.

#matacuervos

[ghostwise]

5 with zevran and hamal for the kiss prompts!

5. Where it hurts.

Zevran has spent the better part of the evening lounging attractively on his bedroll, daggers and rags laid out to maintain the illusion of productivity, while carefully listening for footsteps.

He never wants to give the impression that he is waiting for Hamal—nevermind that it’s true. It’s the principle of the matter.

So he’s come to expect the Warden’s visits. So they’ve become part of his routine. What would be the point of saying so? He’ll come or he won’t. And so what if he doesn’t?

Eyeing his daggers with a final disappointed look, Zevran leaves his tent and ventures out to Hamal’s.

The cold bites at his ankles as he walks. He hurries forward with no need for light besides what the moon provides, and when he gets there, he nearly bumps headfirst into the man.

“Oh,” Hamal says, and Zevran’s heart skips a beat. “I was just about to come find you.”

“Oh?” Zevran returns, trying not to seem surprised, or gratified, or dizzy with warm happiness at those words. He smoothly interjects with a laugh. “Then it seems my timing was perfect.”

Ducking into the tent, he slides his arms around Hamal’s shoulders and drops into his lap in one smooth motion. And he kisses him, because he’s been wanting to. And Hamal kisses him back. It’s nearly perfect, but Zevran has honed his instincts out of bitter necessity over the years. There is a barely perceptible slowness to Hamal’s hands.

Zevran pulls back after a moment, and regards him through half-lidded eyes. In the dim light, Hamal looks back at him steadily and smiles.

There is so much he has yet to learn of this man.

And yet, Zevran feels he knows him more than half-way already.

“What’s wrong?”

Hamal’s smile falters slightly. He flicks his gaze downward, and sets his hands at Zevran’s waist. Zevran can feel one of this thumbs squeeze at his hipbone in a very distracting way. Is he stalling? There is no need to. Zevran is hardly one to pry. They can just as easily get back to business.

He spreads his legs a little, grinding down, knees bunching up the blanket beneath them. Hamal’s breath comes out in a low rumble.

“Sore,” he says quietly, and gathers him up in his arms. “Mm, but it’s nothing.”

Zevran thinks.

They’d had a fairly uneventful day. The only trouble had been a brief encounter with a pack of wolves and a bear scavenging the remains of a caravan. The bodies had been half-eaten when they’d arrived—far too late to be any help. The wolves had been easily chased off. But the bear had proven more difficult, and was only brought down after some impressive bow shooting on Hamal’s part.

It occurs to Zevran that just because he makes it look effortless, does not mean it is.

He carefully extracts himself from Hamal’s embrace.

“Hey-” Hamal says, about to protest, but Zevran interrupts.

“Where is the pain?”

“It’s… just beneath my left shoulder blade. A pulled muscle. Nothing more.”

“May I have a look?”

“Going to kiss it better, are you?” Hamal chuckles, stretching out on his bedroll. He tugs his shirt over his head and rolls onto his stomach.

Zevran wastes no time, and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. It’s a lovely sight, vallaslin trailing over his muscled back.

“Tell me where it hurts most,” he says. “Here?” He kisses his left shoulder blade. Hamal gives a soft hum. “Here?” He kisses another spot, closer to his diaphragm. “Here?” He kisses the soft angle of his lateral muscle, and Hamal tenses slightly.

“That’s it.”

“Good…” Zevran murmurs. He swings a leg over, and settles atop Hamal’s lower back. “Is this alright?” he asks before he begins.

The question earns a low laugh. “Better than alright.”

Zevran smiles. He’s snagged a bottle of lightly scented oil from Hamal’s pack, and is just about to begin working those sore muscles of his when Hamal sighs, “I’m glad to have met you.”

Zevran stops.

He does not ask, why?

He does not say, you’d be the first.

He looks at the trusting body beneath him, ignores the odd twist in his gut, and the butterflies in his stomach.

He puts his hands on the Warden’s skin.

“Funny that,” Zevran says. “Me, too.”

#dragon age #dao #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #mahariel #oc: hamal mahariel #rinnywrites #some early dao-set zevhamal my friend :') thank you <3

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#elden ring

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Who are you?  I am Death. Have you come for me? I’ve long been at your side.

THE SEVENTH SEAL (1957) dir. Ingmar Bergman

#oc inspiration: zirahuén

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#prithee..

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I love drawing people's NPCs, it's genuinely one of my favorite things to do for commissions I actually got to do a lot for this client's campaign, should I start a tag for them?

#OHHH THE IRON MAIDEN SHIELD

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#weevil mermaid.. #small friends

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Sarian and Diego for @inayaeza 🌟

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Love how Pacific Rim became its own genre of fanfic AUs because the concept of soulmate-powered giant robots was just that good.

#pacific rim