#chewing and thinking

[loredrinker]

Solas's choice

Thinking/mulling/reflecting on a piece currently in development. I'm sure this has been discussed...

Solas chose to take a body. Mythal did what she could to cajole and convince - but in the end, the choice was still his.

That choice braced himself for impact:

Cole: Is there a way to save more spirits, Solas?  Solas: Not until the Veil is healed. The rifts draw spirits through, and the shock makes demons of them.  Cole: Pushing through makes you be yourself. You can hold onto the you. Being pulled through means you don't have enough you. You become what batters you, bruises your being.  Solas: Yes, exactly. Deliberately crossing the Veil requires that a spirit form will, personality. That concept of self gives a spirit the chance to maintain its nature. 

Solas pushed through.

Cassandra: I knew demons and spirits were similar, but I did not know one could become the other so easily. Solas: Not similar, Seeker. The same. The Chantry sees black and white, but nature is, and always has been, grey. A spirit is a purpose. A demon is that purpose perverted.

Spirits have purpose - this implies an inherent core essence – an identity that they are defined by.

That choice...

It's what allows him to keep his core essence (purpose) - wisdom. It's what prevents him from becoming wholly pride.

He is both wisdom and pride - a man.

He is a duality - a beautiful, messy being of dualities dancing together. Balance - complementary contrasts - integration - not a division but sums that make up a whole.

What he says in Veilguard:

'I am not a god' - I AM - declaration of self-identity - not spirit, not demon. He is not them (the Evanuris) - he is not omnipotent, not infallible - rejection of godhood - but neither is he saviour - he is an individual shaped by his own choices.

'I am what I have always been - a man' - I AM - an immortal defining himself in the most human and 'mortal' term - not denying his humanity, not running from his flaws - always - his nature, his humanity - has remained consistent, constant - roles, choices, perspectives shift, but not who he is.

'...all too aware of his failings' - aware = wisdom, core essence - introspection, centuries of reflection - self-aware - but the 'all too' - it's too much awareness, he knows deeply, reflects deeply - failings - not mistakes but failings - an ongoing reckoning and reflection of his flaws/traits. Always reflecting - cause he's wisdom who's aware of his pride.

He accepts what he has always been - acceptance of duality leads to wholeness (complete in understanding).

I love this character.

Please feel free to link to any discussions already out there on this (or share your own thoughts) so I can read more and absorb and digest and think.

*Bioware image

[httyd-art-requests]

here's an ask to post whatever you want, even something that's not related to what you normally post :3

I've been holding onto this ask and witing for the right moment

Do you guys wanna guess which recently revived fandom has been consuming my life lately?

You can't tell me this wouldn't be the perfect crossover

[paintedcrows]

Every day is harder, sanity seems farther

[noodles-and-tea]

Twins in time au.... Would Fiddleford act as a sort of father figure to Stan? Since Filbrick obviously SUCKED to both Stan and Ford and Fidd is more than definitely missing HIS son, and of course Ford has grown to love him but they're still BROTHERS.. Maybe they could act as the father/son the other is missing?

ABSOLUTELY!!!!

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[beetle-beep]

yeahg...

[eldritchdyke]

Every remake of a game should come with a copy of the game it is remaking that is compatible with modern hardware but otherwise untouched and I'm not even exaggerating this should be mandated by law. If you're going to attempt to recreate a piece of art you have to give people access to its original context otherwise it becomes the only context and makes the previous version simply a superceded product

[honehonn3honey]

Birthday boy 🎂

[tooquirkytolose]

I dunno I just think if a seemingly innocuous film about cardinals assembling to vote in a new pope inspires memes like these it's worth a fucking watch

[abd-illustrates]

💜 Doppel & Glass 💜

Finally got round to doodling some of the Heartless crew again - been juggling some very intensive work and life stuff lately so it was therapeutic to get lost for a lil' while drawing this one. (Thanks again to everybody who voted in those polls a bit ago - The results were very interesting so I'm looking forward to drawing more of the most-voted characters sometime soon)

[DO NOT EDIT OR REPOST TO OTHER SITES / ACCOUNTS] ♻️reblogs are lovely tho!♻️

[bigfatbreak]

second warmup is: adrien eating one of my favorite foods, a tuna melt. due to some issues ive been on liquids for almost three weeks and i'm missing my usual favs

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

You made her cry, time to die.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[carlyraejepsans]

Beware the Mountain's King

[gorgonfreakman]

one of my favorite scorpy momence of all time (past and future)

[shotmrmiller]

re: rugby team ghoap

it'd been a one-off, seize-the-moment kind of thing. casual hookups aren't really for you, plus you distinctly remember your ex prating on about how the team would only be here for the weekend hence the absolute burning need to go, and you've got work monday.

goodbye, great knowing them. you'd traipsed out of the hotel room with your sneakers in hand, soap's used jersey in the other- a memento of sorts, a trophy. mild serial killer behavior but you reckon since you just became another pearl in their long string of conquests, the least you could do is take something with you that won't be gone with a warm epsom salt bath and a couple of days rest.

("would ye believe yer the prettiest we've ever brought back with us?" right. you know where you stand on that scale, and people like you don't typically pull men like them. another cringe-worthy comment like that and you'd mistake their interest with pity.)

you'd put both jerseys in the wash later that day, and the rattling of your washing machine marked the end of your exciting weekend.

or so you'd thought. from your side of things, you'd wiped your hands clean of their sweat, spit and come and went home, once again falling back into semi-familiarity, expecting to go to work feeling completely relaxed and loose, in more ways than one, while ignoring the photos taken of you and the "star players" at the stadium on social media.

(no one caught your face, what bloody luck.)

when you see them again, it's by pure chance. you'd been ordering a sandwich at a deli down the street, hand already reaching for your wallet when an arm curls around your shoulders, dark, coarse hair of a forearm brushing against your cheek.

cedarwood and citrus. it clings to your senses— a sharp, tangy reminder of that time you'd only look back on when the familiar pang of want pooled searing hot between your legs. small world, you suppose.

"didnae leave a note. stole my jersey. 'm surprised ye didnae leave us money on the table, bonnie." warmth flared beneath your cheeks but you didn't cow to his crude joke.

"i suppose i could've left a tip. what do you want?"

the playful lines around his eyes smoothed as his lips straightened into a firm line, his eyes frostbitten. you ignore the way his touch makes you feel trapped, tethered, a cage made of velvet.

"took my shirt and then didn't show up to a single game after tha'. jus' gettin' wha' i'm owed. unless he's yer favorite."

how can he be your favorite when you know nothing about the sport they play and have no interest in knowing?

"too bad. we come as a package. get yer food, we've a place nearby."

(simon had been nowhere near as good-natured as johnny had about you leaving without a word. made you spit out apologies with swollen lips, only accepted the ones that came with a fluttering of your raw pussy around the splitting thickness of him while soap condescendingly cooed in your ear about lessons having to be learned the hard way.)

[fandomfloater]

Kara (sad): Alex, Lena found out I’m supergirl but I think she forgave me after eating me out.

Alex: wtf

Lena (running into the room): CHEWED YOU OUT KARA. CHEWED