#literal tears lol

[blightbright]

@huldine's tags:

#this is a controversial take but imo that concept for him was just supreme #the more we got into fen'harel lore reveals the farther away it all felt from what i loved in the beginning #which is crazy to say but esp with veilguard i feel that #AND ITS NOT THAT I DONT LOVE FENHAREL VER..... #but when i write him in fic i am ALWAYS going off of that solas with the dedication to resistance and revolution that comes from his own #morality and love of people even those not considered people #i literally sjw-ify solas so bad LMAO sorry everyone but i love it #hes just my sweet little guy at the end of the day....

my own hot take riffing off of this:

I think this is exactly who he is, even in canon DATV (which has unreliable narrator elements), and it's why when I was in the middle of writing my main Solavellan fic (sea of frozen words), I kept reminding readers that there would be a TRUE HAPPY ENDING (which there is) if people were willing to stick with me on a shadow work/underworld journey (metaphorically and literally in-universe), from which we would emerge. I love the full journey (so that's where I differ from OP) but ALSO, I see it as more of a labyrinth or a spiral, where we circle back to where we started and realize the first impression of fervent kindness from someone who's experienced oppression firsthand? that was right all along. he never deceived Lavellan about his most authentic self and values.

my Lavellan had to face, head on, all the apparent brutality and seeming disdain for life, all the legitimate horrors and pain, and all the devastating assumptions that Solas was allowing people to make in part because of his willingness to be hated and seen as a villain if it saved more lives for the most vulnerable. my Lavellan had to process her own trauma, test her own dynamic with Solas to see if his true self was even capable of loving her the way she needed (good news!), and explore her own complexities, because how else could she really be confident in a choice to be with him forever? and I as a writer had to keep peeling layers asking why, why, why, until suddenly it clicked and there, left underneath, was a Solas made up of beautiful resistance and absolute love for objectified people.

I legit legit legit think Solas is in disguise as himself in DA:I. he's that apostate hobo wandering off to help at his surface layer, then it's stripped away and there's all this other scary and uncomfortable and painful stuff underneath, a lot of which is playing to others' expectations or being forced upon him in various ways, and then back down at his core once again, there's that inner self that's truthful to exactly who he showed us he is in DA:I.

I don't think it's possible to SJW-ify Solas too much TBH.

For me personally, when I say I’m a Solavellan I mean the blissful ignorance of love for that apostate hobo that wandered off to help the healer in the Hinterlands. I fell in love with whoever was nothing more than that. The more I learnt about him the more I missed who I thought he was when I was so naive to this type of story telling.

[fbfh]

Thinking about lazy morning sex with Jason Grace. Making him feel so wanted because you’ve just woken up and there’s a million things you could be doing but all you want is him. Imagine his brain short circuiting at the concept of being the first thing you want when you wake up. He’s not an afterthought anymore and he just can’t wrap his head around it.

Jason is so sweet in the morning. He's all disoriented and drowsy, his eyes are all puffy from sleep and his glasses are sitting on the night table where he left them last night. his blonde hair looks like he got struck by lightning, which in all honesty wouldn't surprise you knowing him. his cheeks are all flushed and his muscles are all soft and relaxed. he's never been relaxed before ever, and it's only since he started sharing a bed with you, snuggling up with you and feeling your soft little good night kisses that he's known what peace feels like. so that particular morning, birds and cicadas singing outside, the ac blasting cold air over you and your blonde superman of a boyfriend, you just can't resist him. you're so right that he's not used to not being an afterthought. this is literally Jason whenever you express how much you love him or even do the bare minimum, much less treat him the way he deserves to be treated. you're like I love you so much and he's like whhhat??? whhat is going on????? what the hhhell are you tahlking about?????????? then you kiss him and his brain short circuits. this morning in particular you just can't resist him. you start peppering his puffy sleepy face in kisses. he's barely awake, he's blinking one eye at a time and thinks it's dream. then you climb on top of him, and that really wakes him up. his brain understands unbelievably horny hottie and sitting on my morning wood, but he can't get much further than that. he can't connect the two, make himself realize that he's the reason you're like this. and quite frankly if he did his head and balls would explode so violently neither of you would come back from that. so as you ride him, languid and lazy, soaking in every electrifying sensation of pleasure shared between you two, as you indulge yourself in touching him, kissing him, anywhere and everywhere you possibly can, you decide this is a good starting point. your breathing gets faster and you keep moaning out his name, sighing it into his lips over wet, messy kisses that just get deeper and deeper and he can't believe his ears. but he really wants to. you decide this is a good place to start. maybe after a few more weeks of riding his morning wood till he's nice and soft, he'll start to get the hint that you really, really like him. like, a lot.

[puppetmaster13u]

Meme Prompt 10

[charbies]

linktober day 9 - mystery

[i-may-be-an-emu]

they make everything so much better it’s actually so crazy

[orviposition]

an entire chapter in yjh's pov and it's all just him being a yearning mess

Without realizing it, Yoo Joonghyuk let out a faint laugh and muttered, "It's the handiwork of someone who's good at making dumplings." he is such a proud husband oh my god

[squeakadeeks]

im gonna. yartz. my sewing machine finally broke. honestly it was a pretty bad machine, one of the models that was super flimsy like the ez-bake oven equivalent of a sewing machine. one of the plastic parts warped and wont fit with the other cogs anymore.

so uuuhhhhhhhh hope you guys have been liking. my weird bad art cause thats literally all i will be able to do for a w h i l e

[saltedbiscuiit]

Dazai’s worst nightmare ♡

[daeyumi]

saw a post on twt that said something like “draw ur fave character in ur fave outfit”

SO

i present to u goth link 🖤

[heynhay]

will you break and take all the words from my mouth?

[nyanbinary-81]

@vulpixisananimal

[Soothing Restful Song]

[You hear a bell. Chiming, tolling, calling your name.]

[fatedroses]

Two tanks without their emotional support healers.

[fistfuloflightning]

When Ming Fan finally fought his way through the underbrush to where the Rift had appeared, it was already too late. Shizun and Luo Binghe stood at the edge of the yawning chasm, swords unsheathed and pointed at each other. He hadn’t thought much of it when Shen Qingqiu had flown past him so soon after the earthquake that had torn open the Rift, but he could now see there was something very wrong. Shen Qingqiu’s back was turned to Ming Fan and his face hidden, but he could see plainly the fear and confusion on Luo Binghe’s face. Along with the glowing, damning mark on his forehead. Something demonic.

Ming Fan gripped the foliage, forcing himself not to run out. Not yet. He’d end up dead or wishing he was. He had mocked Luo Binghe early in the Conference, yes, but he knew the younger boy had done nothing to merit this kind of punishment—!

In a matter of seconds, Xiu Ya had stabbed forward, Zheng Yang had shattered, and Luo Binghe had staggered back into the Rift.

Everything seemed to still.

Ming Fan sucked in an breath and darted out of the foliage—but it was too late. Luo Binghe’s arm vanished over the edge just as Ming Fan ran past their shizun. He lunged forward the last few feet, fingers clawing at Luo Binghe’s forearm just in time. Caught, held. The sudden weight had him crashing again against the ground and the wind was knocked out of him. The taste of charred earth mixed with that of fresh blood where he’d nearly bitten his tongue in half.

But that was inconsequential. Not when he could feel the weight at the end of his arm that told him he didn’t fail. Even when the only person he needed to acknowledge that fact was someone he couldn’t stand. No one deserves to die like this, Ming Fan thought viciously. Not even him.

Dangling below him, Luo Binghe’s eyes were wide with terror and confusion, at odds with the damning, demonic seal glowing on his forehead. But there was something like gratitude there as well, out of place and so painfully frail.

For a fragile second, it felt like they were breathing the same

“Shixiong—”

With a cry, he was wrenched from Ming Fan’s grip and into the Abyss below. Ming Fan’s cry was strangled in his throat.

He didn’t know how long he remained there, clenching the burned grass with white-knuckled fingers and straining his eyes to see through the acrid smoke that rose from the chasm for even the barest glimpse of Luo Binghe. But time moved on and the Rift sealed shut and when Ming Fan blinked and once more became aware of his surroundings, he realized he was not alone.

Shen Qingqiu loomed over him like a stone Buddha, face cold as jade. His spiritual sword was once more sheathed, his robes neat and not one hair out of place. As though he hadn’t had a hand in what had happened here.

“You… you killed him,” Ming Fan breathed, still unable to fully process what had just taken place. But that’s what it was, a death sentence fed to the hungry maw of the Endless Abyss.

Shen Qingqiu. “He was a stain upon our sect.”

Ming Fan could feel the rage slowly rise. “He was a disciple of Qing Jing Peak. He was your disciple.” Acknowledging it was like vinegar on his tongue but a boy was dead because of him. He stared at Shen Qingqiu as if seeing him for the first time. Stripped of his elegance and his masks…

“He was a demon.” Shen Qingqiu sneered down at him. “There is no need to explain to you why he needed to be eradicated.”

Ming Fan tore burning eyes away from that frigid, impassive mask. He couldn’t bear looking at the man he had so long idolized. Instead he stared at the ground, in fear he would do or say something he could not undo. And beside his knee he saw slivers of metal.

The shards of Zheng Yang, tangled in the burned grass. Ming Fan’s vision blurred and his breath grew sharp and ragged, anger slamming into him full force. He wrapped his fingers around the pieces, the razor pain of their edges grounding him as the rest of his world unraveled like poorly woven cloth. His shizun had failed him.

And he had failed his shidi.

[dailypokemoncrochet]

It's really nice that there are so many people out there cheering me on. I've got some personal hangups that make me constantly minimize the value of plushies and little trinkets, and inadvertently myself and my accomplishments because of that, so it's genuinely nice to read comments and compliments about me and my crochet pokemon. The full range of a wordless like/reblog to a one word comment "cool" to incoherent wailing in the tags, and just the knowledge that somewhere out there someone probably had a kind thought about me even though they don't know me helps me feel a little better about my lot in life.

[robo-dino-puppy]

guess whaaaaaat

HZD armor gallery anyone? :D

I think I finally cracked it. I think I have them all and they're almost all perfect and I won't have to do (as much) editing (as I did with the PS5-obtained ones)!

there were... a lot... of problems. some of them self-inflicted. but once it's done I'll be soooooooo happy. no promises on when because I still have to crop them all and make new menus for the armor blog. but. it's coming. promise.

[getosugurusbangs]

i found a photograph my mother took of someone i don’t recognize anymore.