#whitespiritboy

[drunkenspacewolf]

A question to the self - Drabble

Tiran leans back in his chair, the back of his head resting against a table and both palms covering his face. He had never been one to sit and idly think to himself since that just invited unwanted thoughts and fears right in.

But ever since that strange ghost visited, he hasn’t been able to focus at all.

“Forgive...what exactly am I carrying? What do I need to drop? How would I even start to forgive myself to move forward?” Tiran spoke aloud yet no answer came from outward or within. So much for that helping.

“Wish I could ask Ink on these things. He’d probably have an answer wrapped up like a present. Wrapped in riddles.” He grins imagining Ink handing him a box of question marks wrapped with a bow.  “He’s probably super busy anyways. Maybe...I could talk with Daine...or Saku.”

Both hands went up along his face to trace fingers through fiery orange hair while sitting up. “Where’d I put my phone again?” He idly spoke while looking around.

[tosolvethequn]

whitespiritboy asked:

☃ [ Everyone should give Cole pets. ]

tosolvethequn answered:

Tallis held the squirming puppy close and walked up the tavern’s stairs to where Cole hid, “I’ve got something for you,” she said happily, the small puppy yipping happily in her arms, eager to play.

   His attention is first caught by     the young woman whose heart     hurts, whenever she looks at     people who remind her of the     home that was never a home but     it drifts, quickly, to the bundle of     explosive energy in her arms and     the spirit’s eyes widen and he     drifts close, holding a hand out to     the pup, letting it lap at his fingers.

                  “He’s like                          a Spirit, everything                   is so new!”

“I guess so,” Tallis said, “One of the refugees had a pregnant dog so I asked if I could have one of the puppies,” she had always loved animals.  Unlike people you knew their intentions right away and if you were kind to them they loved you right back.

“I thought given how many of the cats you play with that you might like a pet.”

[tosolvethequn]

☃ [ Everyone should give Cole pets. ]

Tallis held the squirming puppy close and walked up the tavern’s stairs to where Cole hid, “I’ve got something for you,” she said happily, the small puppy yipping happily in her arms, eager to play.

[amatuss-blog]

[Mhm!]

My Opinion on;

Character in general: rly good. ive seen them around on my dash somtimes and dang theyre good. i just... im heartbroken over spirit cole so im cryHow they play them: rly fukkin great as ive seen. The Mun: havent talked to them yet but they seem rly precious. cinnamon roll

Do I:

RP with them: noWant to RP with them: i do but at the same time ill cry because spirit! cole.....

What is my;

Overall Opinion: rly good!!! like ive seen you around almost everywhere and i saw u follow me too and literally the only thing stopping me from following you back is the fact that spirit cole breaks my heart into a million pieces. i rly shouldnt judge u based on that but like..... cries

[mcntiroso-blog]

closed;

Iron Bull was fond of Cole. Even if Cole’s abilities startled him quite a bit, he saw Cole meant no harm to the inhabitants of Skyhold. He helped. For the moment, he searched for the spirit-boy in order to receive some insight. Perhaps Cole would see right through his calm demeanor.. it was a nerve-wracking thing with the other. No thoughts were hidden.

[timeywimeyten]

seeing the doctor interacting with Cole is making me all kinds of happy.

// Aww, thanks, friend! :D Same here. I'm enjoying the thread, myself! Glad you like the thread!

[sorrowedvigil]

[ I agree with the Fade Spirits. I really like how you portray Abelas, and how you write. (D ]

rolls aroundrolls into spaceb y e(i don't know how to accept compliments without a lot of keyboard smashing, so ashdfkldshflkshfklshfl thank you!!!)

[varric-at-your-service]

Lessons

After Varric cleared his dinner, he put out two writing sets. 

Fresh, crisp parchment is laid in a neat pile between the sets, next to a bottle of sand.

The one on the right is worn, the metal coating his quill is warped slightly in the shapes of his fingers, and it fits his hand in a satisfying way when he holds it. It gleams in the firelight from where it is worn, The inkwell, small and made of glass, is cloudy and chipped and scraped and stained and perfect. 

The set on the left is new. The inkwell meet its first staining as he fills it halfway with the mixture of grease and charcoal. The pen is still smooth and the metal slightly dull from underuse. 

The hearth casts a golden light over the table and its contents. A warm feeling that has nothing to do with fire spreads underneath his ribs as he pulls another chair beside his, in front of the newer set.