#[ - ANYWAYS ]

[woaaahh-itz-caam]

here have a thing bcuz it’s xmas or smth!! :3

click for better quality bcuz tumblr hates it apparently

[cainternn]

VI!! 💢

[lilysaus]

13-years old me cleaning the living room: hm, i have no idea what this thingy is but it looks like it belongs to my mom so imma put it on her bed

my mom: oh that actually goes in this other place but thanks for trying to figure it out by yourself

me cleaning the living room now: hm, i have no idea what this thingy is but it looks like it belongs to my mom so imma put it on her bed

my mom: THATS NOT WHERE THAT GOES OH MY GOD WHY CANT YOU GET IT RIGHT-

also my mom: why cant you just problem solve when youre cleaning? figure it out or something, jeez

[kanakori]

yearning

[businesstiramisu]

another one where i have since read the book, and yeah, the memes check out!

i love these idiots. happy new year wherever you are, locked tomb fandom!

[erinwantstowrite]

thor is going to be so proud of peter picking up the hammer

“PARKERSON IS WORTHY, HAZZAAHHHHH”

thor, asgardian: get him a beer! 🍻

literally everyone, but especially dick: NO????

[constellama]

Virgil look at the camera

[sissiarte]

They kissed :_)

[cccotard]

winter clothes :p

[kariswritingblog]

oh shoot I’ve never thought of this until now-

Since Astarion and Nat have a weird lifelink/shared immortality type of thing watching their friends grow old and die would definitely hit them hard. At least he doesn’t have to watch Nat die of old age though-

It would be so bittersweet to see them through the years, unaging and looking the exact same since their adventures so long ago, while their friends move on. Time starts to slip away and move so quickly as each of them settle down and have children. The rest nag them and place bets to see how long until they have children, they have their first as everyone else grows older and their children have long grown up and forged their own paths..nearly 32 years later. Everyone makes a competition to see who will outlive them…they sit off to the sidelines watching them contently.

do you think that spawn Astarion becomes a family friend to the descendants of his friends in the years following the nether brain? is there always a spot reserved for him in the lives of every dekarios and hallowleaf and ravengard and cliffgate and baenre until the end of time? do you think he looks at them and sees his party members? do the dekarios descendants have gale’s intelligence and thirst for knowledge? do the ravengards all laugh like wyll? how many cliffgates dance like karlach? Do shadowheart’s descendants love the same night orchids and have the same soft spot for animals? do the baenres have minthara’s sharp tongue and thirst for vengeance? do any of them look like tav?

[vickyyrose]

my Arthur design ig

its eh I didn't really know what to do with him but yeah

bonus arthur

[treviso-nights]

there’s something profoundly childlike about solas’s inability to grapple with the inevitability of change.

spirits don’t seem to undergo the developmental stages mortals do, and solas’s reaction to the shifting world around him almost feels... puerile. he watches the evanuris (as former spirits) change—granted, for the worse—and the elves evolve from manifesting bodies to procreating and inheriting them. in light of all these varying transitions, he thinks: “if I can just remain as Wisdom, i’ll be fine. i won’t be like them.”

but he does change. and he is like them. possessing a sort of intuited fore- and retro-sight doesn't mean anything when the choices you're making for other people also destroy the world.

during cole’s personal quest in inquisition, varric isn’t solas's counterpart due to “bad writing”, which i've seen some people argue. varric is The Storyteller, the narrator who frames entire games (da2 and veilguard). stories are a wisdom of their own, and varric knows this. he knows the power of alchemy and transformation, and how these processes are necessary to round out subjective experience. he is the perfect guide to help a changing spirit like cole reconcile those changes with his original nature.

yet even when you do encourage cole to embrace his spirit-origins, it is not enough. only when cole actively chooses to forget original!cole does he regress to a “purer” version of himself. until then, cole remains in torment over what he could've done for original!cole had he the support and resources. there is no alchemizing. there is no substantial transformation. there is a total or "complete" lack of catharsis, because—

—cole, even after forgiving original!cole's murderer (like a spirit would), finds that simply forgiving is not enough to make him like he was. and so he once again stands at a crossroads: integration of his new-found humanity or self-inflicted memory loss. full embodiment versus purification of the self. and solas, by contrast, doesn't choose either of these.

instead, solas clings to his regrets (like a child would a blanket) as well as his identity as Wisdom while refusing to fully embody the world he’s a part of. to me, solas becomes like an adolescent trapped in stasis and terrified by the idea of change in a world that he does not actually understand: “i am of Wisdom. i am in pain. i must not change.”

[gomzdrawfr]

The night was quiet as the Captain stepped out into the open air, fresh out from a mission, the sharp chill of the morning bit at his skin but he hardly noticed due to the exhaustion. The sky was dark, save for the faint halo of the light from the idling helicopter in the distance, painting the floor and wall in hues of turquoise.

There he was, Nikolai.

He leaned casually against the aircraft, a cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers, one foot propped, his broad shoulders relaxed. His jacket was unzipped just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of his chest and all the hairy goodness beneath.

Even from a distance, Price could see the way Nik’s eyes were fixed on him.

Always waiting. Always there. Always steadfast. Just like he always had been. 

The first few snowflakes drifted slowly from the sky, mixing with the faint fog of Nikolai’s breath curling in the air and the smoke from his cigarette. Nik looked hot—there was no other word for it.

Okay, maybe there were few more words to describe the love of his life, but John couldn’t give a single bollock digging through the dictionary now. Not when Nik was standing there with his arms crossed, black hair slicked back yet slightly tousled. He looked like he belonged on the cover of one of those old male model magazines he’d been caught sneaking glances at in secret.

Something giddy and nearly childish bubbled in John’s chest, like spotting a bright candy from afar, something precious you’ve waited for your entire life. Before he knew it, he began walking. Boots crunched against the concrete beneath each step as his hands moved almost automatically, shrugging his helmet off, letting it fall to the ground with no care as his walk turned into a small jog, then a run. 

His goal was clear: to kiss his hot pilot husband.

By the time he reached Nik, his breath was shallow and his chest was heaving with something that wasn’t exertion, excitement maybe, but he stopped just short, his gaze lifting to meet Nik’s. 

Price paused, just for a second. He always did, right? Even after all this time, after a hundred kisses and then some, Price always had that fleeting moment of hesitation. A combination of gratitude, love and guilt stirred inside his chest. Nik had always waited, even now, through all the years it took John to come around, to gently removing and breaking down his defenses brick by brick, until he’d finally admitted what they both knew was inevitable. 

But tonight, John thought it wasn’t the nerves holding him back.

It was the way Nik was looking at him, staring at him like he was the centre of the universe, with those dark eyes softened and the corner of his eyes crinkled with adoration. The kind of look that had John’s knees buckled, the kind of look that screamed worship, that he was enough, that he was loved for exactly who he was. 

For Nik, he was roaming his eyes around John, observing the way the snowflakes gathered around John’s hair, blending with the white strands already there, the way they aligned and caught in the faint light made it shimmer like constellations, presenting John- his husband, in an otherworldly look. It was as if every star and planet had aligned to bring the John Price here, shaped from stardust gathered from the debris of the abyss and sent John crashing into his heart like a meteor.

If Nikolai too, could see himself as one of the stars in a galaxy of thousands, colliding with John to create the brightest supernova, perhaps then, he could erase the darker thoughts that lingered behind his love.

Nikolai had always thought himself akin to the black hole, pulling everything he loved into himself, consuming it with a selfish, unrelenting hunger. It was, and still is, a daily struggle to fight the unforgiving part of himself that believed he wasn’t worthy of Price. 

Nik leaned down slightly, nudging his nose against John’s, hearing the faint hitch in John’s breath, the reaction that always pulled a smile to his lips. The way Nik moved his nose to John’s cheek was slow and intimate, pressing lightly into the softness of the skin. Even as Nikolai can feel the way John breathed him in, the faint tang of ash and smoke with a mix of engine oil, the smell that reminded John something of warmth, of home, Nikolai still couldn’t quite shake off the pang of guilt. 

Nikolai wanted John wholly, completely, all of him, and that weight of need and want felt almost cruel. To love someone so much that it physically hurt, to want someone to the point of selfishness–it was hauntingly beautiful and unbearable at the same time. 

“Kissing under the first snow of the year,” Nik murmured, the cigarette between his fingers sizzled and forgotten, his voice rough with affection and a hint of the usual tease, batting off the uneasiness of his heart with humor, “like boys in a love story…звезда моя”. John huffed, rolling his eyes as his cheeks burned, a cute shade of red dusting his skin like apples. Nik almost cooed when the snowflake landed on his cheek melted away instantly, the heat of his embarrassment clear as day.

John didn’t bother responding, wanted to kiss Nik stupid as he leaned forward. Yet, as their lips were barely brushing and their eyes closed, the moment dissolved into something softer. Their breaths mingled, warm against their cold skin, and when they finally closed the distance–the kiss was slow and tender, like they were learning how to kiss all over again, and their worries faded away like the snow melting on the ground. 

Nik kissed the same way he loved, completely, boundlessly, consuming, and John allowed himself to be swallowed whole, to be taken completely by the gravity of Nik’s affection.

Because if there was any man that John would start a war for–even a cosmic one at that, it would always be him, and only him, his Nikolai. 

When they finally pulled back, with more snowflakes gathered around their head and their foreheads pressed together. Nik breathed out a quiet chuckle, “you’re blushing, John.”

John groaned, shaking his head, voice low yet filled with fondness. “Cheeky as ever, Nik.”

Merry Christmas Nekros!! I hope you like this lil present I wrote based on the breathtaking art :D special thanks to my friends and @karlachismylife for the help and inspiration :) ho ho ho to the nikprice community too!!

Returning from an op and immediately running to kiss your hot pilot husband under the first snow of the year 🌨️🚁

[luckynumberthreed]

Should I find a new pose? The answer is yes btw

[sweetestflow3rs]

whitney can't help finding the pc attractive when she's upset