my 3rd husband

Basically, he became my new muse. Like drawing vanderwood is fun as fuck. 

Did I already mention that I love him? If not, I love this man more than myself

- Please do not repost without permission -

Some femme Hannigram

Questions I’ve been left with after interacting with minor DA:I characters:

-The Dowager: “after my 3rd husband, Pierre, died of rosallia, I swore off marriage forever… -then my eight husband, Naziare, tragically crushed by a cartload of fine handbags…" 

  • Did you get to keep the handbags?
  • If my inquisitor slept with you in order to save Josephine’s family, does that mean they’re marked for some terrible and ridiculous death, now? Because that seems to be the pattern with you… 

-The Ferelden mercenary that Gaspard hired: "How could there be demons in the fucking Winter Palace??"  

  • Who decided you get to use up all the good swears?
  • I’m glad you did, though. You used them well.
  • … also, I call shenanigans. This man has obviously only been in Thedas for like 2 mins if he doesn’t know EXACTLY how those demons got here. Like, bitch, you saw that rift. We’ve all been to Ferelden and we’ve seen the rifts there.
  • Is he an alien?
  • sketchy

-Lord Woolsley: “BAAAAAAAH (turns into a demon)” 

  • When did you first notice you were a demon? 
  • Why hasn’t One-Eyed Jimmy noticed? He’s still got the one eye, it’s not like he can’t see…
  • Rams aren’t normally orange, Jimmy.

-The one soldier who’s (reasonably) freaking the fuck out while you’re running with Cassandra to the Temple of Sacred Ashes: “Maker! It’s the end of the world!!!” 

  • Are you okay, pal? Do you need some milk?
  • Someone get this man some milk.

-Lord Trifles Minutiae: “We will continue… when I have time… and the wind calls me… (poorly-made wind sounds)” 

  • Where did you come from, and why can’t you join my party? We need you, Trifles.
  • I need you.❤️

-The masked prick you run into before meet Sera on her recruitment quest: “Impossible! I’m too important for this to be an accident!” 

  • W-who are you…?
  • Like honestly, what “efforts” are you leveling against the Inquisition?
  • Who shat in your shredded wheat, friend?

-Hyndel: “I greet you. My name is Hyndel.”

  • … are you single, Hyndel 👀?
  • Do you want to be 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀?

One Time I was in New Mexico

I had a dream that Wolfman Jack was a robot built by aliens. If you don’t know, Wolfman Jack was Mexican radio DJ from the 1960s who claimed he was a werewolf. I dreamed I was having Thanksgiving dinner with my family and my father finishes blessing the meal and we all say “Amen” and Wolfman Jack punctuates it with a shuddering howl.

Wolfman Jack is just sitting there like my aunts 3rd ex-husband. And I blink and somehow Wolfman’s body is at the center of the table like a main course, like a primitive animal love cult. His head is at the head of the table, the guest of honor surrounded by flowers and sage. His head starts chanting loudly like an android reading the last rights of the wild wild west.  He muses holy of truck stops and shag carpet, of drinking whiskey and riding a train through middle of a mother fucking mountain. All while my family is tearing his body apart like a grandfather clock full of hairy meat and gears. Somewhere in here I begin to cry. No one notices right away, but then they do and I realize that I’m next. My family is going to tear me into bite size pieces. 

The Wolfman looks at me. We share a shivering holy moment.

Then all goes dark except the sound like sparks lighting up my mind and I awake and it’s the Wolfman howling. Howling me awake on the bedside radio.