for every one of them

3

rtx sydney is coming up soon so i figured i’d get myself more hype by throwing some art together !! but of course my first piece of RT fanart in literal months turns out to be the sex von shaukel boyz, because i cannot control myself,

Imagine this:

every single character in your room. All of them. Every single one you have ever read about, watched, imagined, created. All of them putting you to sleep. All of them surrounding your bed and protecting you from all harm with whatever kind of weapon or defense technique they have. They are all there for you. You are safe. And I think that is very very comforting to think about.

My favorite thing about coming back to college this week has been all of my professors lowkey dragging President Drumph at every possible opportunity. Every single one of them have thrown shade like:

“Let’s remember to speak in complete sentences…*mumbling* unlike our new leader.”

“Villains can be many things…*mumbling* orange ignorant monsters, for instance.”

“We’re going to be respectful of all demographics in this class…*mumbling* even if certain new political powers are not.”

"Protests can be art if they communicate the ideas of the people….*mumbling* or if they oppose racist, sexist idiots.”

And this is only SOME of them

When a blind woman was named Inquisitor, none of her inner circle expected the task before her to be easy. Neither did any of them expect her to face it alone. Each of them has their own task, a duty they have assigned themselves to make Elera Lavellan’s life just a little easier, a role they carry out with stubborn dedication. None of them say it, but they all know that every one of them would rather die than see someone else take their place.

Solas walks with her in the Fade, drawing her into his memories, conjuring up images of the places they’ve been. Only her body is blind, and in the Fade, she can see the echoes he creates for her. They stroll the ramparts of Skyhold together, a smile flickering around her mouth as she looks out on the rolling mountains, and he helps her memorise every staircase and passageway so that she might navigate them more easily in her sightless waking world. He shows her the Emerald Graves, so that she can stand beneath the trees and gaze at the million different shades of green the sunlight creates as it falls through the leaves. He shows her, despite his scorn, the Dalish camp they visited in the Exalted Plains, so that she can remember her own clan and feel, for a time, at home. They walk the paths of his memories together, he her hahren, and she, a student and friend he is proud to teach.

Varric does what an author does best - he puts the world around them into words. When they reach the top of a slope and let out gasps of awe at a view that Elera can’t see, he steps up to describe it to her, painting every detail with the best words he can think of until she smiles and whispers, I can picture it. He does the same with the people they meet, telling her everything from the colour of their hair to how high she has to look to meet their eyes. Leave it to the others to do the basics, helping her to make it through the world. Varric’s duty is to make that world beautiful.

Sera is the one who climbs. Up the piles of rocks, balancing on beams and narrow ledges, clambering onto rooftops and jumping between gaps. She hates those creepy shards, but Elera says they’re important, and Sera’s damned if she’s letting a blind woman go hauling herself up those frigging rock piles to reach them. Elera would do it if someone else didn’t, stupid stubborn woman, and Sera doesn’t want to see her fall and get herself killed. Because even though she’s an elf, an elfy elf, a really elfy elf who wants those pissing elfy shards to open that elfy temple… somehow, they ended up as friends. Real good friends. And Sera was never one to let her friends get hurt.

Vivienne picks out her wardrobe, not only for all those soirees and balls that the Inquisitor is obliged to make an appearance at, but for day to day wear. Just because practicality is Elera’s greatest concern - finding something with few buttons she needs to fumble at and few fastenings to struggle with - doesn’t mean she should be forced to sacrifice fashion. Vivienne seeks out fine silk and velvet for her, fabrics that a Dalish elf could never have heard of or touched before. She finds tunics in rich turquoise to match her vallaslin, and, for special occasions, a ballgown in pale silvery-blue, so unearthly against her pale skin that she almost seems to be wearing moonlight.

Dorian reads to her. It starts with him making some remark about a book on spirit magic he’s been browsing through. That sounds interesting, she says, could you read that passage to me? And before long it’s a tradition. She comes to the library, he finds a book, they sit in chairs facing each other and Dorian reads. At first it’s mostly tomes on magical theory, but soon, he’s narrating a new chapter of Hard In Hightown every evening, and a little circle gathers around them to listen, all of them catching their breath in unison over the dramatic parts and groaning whenever Varric ends things with yet another cliffhanger.

Cassandra has always been at home on the battlefield, and right from the start, she appoints herself the task of making sure that Elera can feel at home there too. Two rage demons, approaching from the right, and three wraiths, she roars, as the rift splits open and pours the Fade’s denizens forward.  One Red Templar in heavy armour, one archer. Just the simplest things, the things that tell Elera where to stand and what spell to use. There’s nothing she can do to make the bellowing of demons and the clashing of weapons less chaotic - but she can try to bring some kind of order out of the chaos. That’s what she does best, after all.

Bull takes it upon himself to make sure she can indulge in all the things the others won’t let her. Honestly, they treat her like she’s made of glass sometimes, and he knows it infuriates her, knows that she doesn’t want to be coddled. She’s blind, not a child. So he’s the one who makes sure she drops into the Herald’s Rest like all the others, the one who buys her a drink and lets her vent. She rarely has more than one or two, but all the same, he walks with her back to her room afterwards. Leaders have as much right to let themselves go as anyone from time to time. The fact that this leader can’t see doesn’t make the damnedest bit of difference to that.

Cole helps. He appears from thin air to guide her up staircases and through passageways when she needs it - but only when she needs it, because he knows she wants to stand alone as much as she can. And since she can’t see the curl of another man’s lip or the twitch of his brow while she speaks to him, Cole reads people for her, telling her the things she can’t pick up from their words and their tone. To him, her lack of eyesight means nothing. She’s a person, like all the others, and her thoughts are the same as everyone else’s. 

And Blackwall stands beside her. Where he’s meant to be. He’s the shield between her and everything that could ever possibly hurt her, the hand that flashes out to catch her when she stumbles and the weapon that cuts down the enemy who dared to get close. He’s the arm she rests her hand on as they go about their travels, the voice that tells her the path’s getting steeper or take it slow, there’s a sharp drop to the right. At first it’s an obligation, the duty of a soldier who’s seen men suffer a thousand different wounds from war, losing eyesight and limbs and sanity and Maker knows what else. He knows how to help someone whose body isn’t quite whole. 

But it becomes more than that, so much more. She is so strong, so capable, so determined to face all the trials thrown at her by a world she can’t see - but she can’t protect herself from everything. Just as he has needed her, needed her calm kindness and her dauntless faith in him, so she needs him to be her first and last line of defence. He knows, as the rest don’t (all right, Cole probably does, but all the normal rest don’t) that the one thing Elera Lavellan fears is oblivion. Being lost and alone with nothing to guide her.

She won’t have to face oblivion while he’s still breathing. She will always be able to reach out for him and find him there, to hear him tell her, I’m here, my lady. To which she responds with a smile and a murmur - I know, vhenan. Thank you.

She is his fortress, he is her shield, and nothing in the world can touch them.

Beyoncé truly is a living legend and truly is the best because since this woman has started her solo career you hoes have not been able to keep her name out of your mouths.

Every time yall compare two artist, Beyoncé is one of them. Why? Because she is the standard to which all of these other artists should strive to reach even though it’s not likely that they will.

I feel like Mudsdale is a good benchmark on how far I’ve come, given that there’s only two other equine Pokémon families. I often wonder if this daily practice does anything, but it it clearly does. I feel accomplished.

I saw a bunch of flyers for a local anti-French group posted all over my neighbourhood on my morning walk, and by this evening every one of them had been torn down. It’s made for a very odd mix of shame and then pride in my community.

“I do not consider either the just, or the wicked, to be in a supreme state, but to be, every one of them, states of the sleep which the soul may fall into in its deadly dreams of good and evil, when it leaves Paradise following the serpent.”

–William Blake

I love all my friends from the very bottom of my heart and genuinely hope each and every one of them is having a great and wonderful day <3

Taichi Yagami and the moment he realises he’s in love with Mimi Tachikawa.

It’s just a simple moment, something that she says, the way she moves away from him, the dazzling way she smiles back at him. It’s no different to the way she’s always treated him, teasing and bright and the way Mimi always is with each and every single one of them.

But there’s a swoop in his stomach, a twist in his gut. A fluttering that he’s never felt before but knows exactly what it means.

He knows then and there that that’s it. That she’s got him. 

That he’s willing to fall completely and head first for this girl.

anonymous asked:

Jotaro, Polnalreff take care their crying so hard s/o. Heal me I have a really bad day and sorry for my English too..

No no it’s okay nonnie your English is fine yo!! I’m sorry you had a bad day tho

~Jotaro~
•He’s shitty at handling his own emotions let alone anyone else’s
•Silently pulls his sobbing S/O into his arms and holds them until they stop crying
•Puts his hat on their head and plays with their hair
•Might mumble reassurances every so often
•Cuddles with them once they stop crying

~Polnareff~
•One word: PANIC
•This boy is hella emotional so he’ll probably cry with his S/O
•Holds them close to his chest (bara titties) and sings french lullabies to them
•Brings them a small snack once they stop crying

so you know this SD i got named Erin, right

this fucker

i’ve often said before as a joke that he looks good in anything

and as my lair’s currently naked, I’ve been playing a game of dressing him in the outfits of my other dragons

i’m halfway through my lair and he’s been rocking every single one of them he must be stopped

twitch.tv
thegeminisage - Twitch
REFUSE pg 22 & 23

if you like awesome undertale music, mediocre art, or just chatting about the game, come on in! i’ve been asked if it’s OK to reblog these stream posts - YES! i’d be thrilled! it doesn’t matter if you’ve read the comic or played the game, EVERYONE is welcome to reblog and EVERYONE is welcome to attend the stream and bring your pals! the more the merrier! i love seeing the same usernames from week to week and i love seeing new folks drop in to say hi, so it’s all good! PLEASE just take a glance at the stream rules here!

…also. i was chatting with a few people last night and apparently a common misconception is that my streams usually garner a crowd? because i am famous? (???) which means people feel too intimidated to come in? please let me assuage all fears and inform you that this is: patently false. while i appreciate each and every one of them, i only have about ~350 followers, and i’ve only posted 21 pages! my stream viewer count has NEVER gotten to the double digits and i only have like a dozen or so twitch followers. trust me, i am not in any possible way famous. if i seem famous or like i should be famous (??????????) it is only because i have somehow tricked you into thinking i have all my shit together, which is another lie. my streams are not at all intimidating (i hope?); it’s nice and chill in here, and in fact, sometimes i even close up early because it goes REAL DEAD after ~6pm (so, after about the first four hours) so if you like to hang in the later portion of the evening that would be wonderful! 

anyway, that out of the way…

i’ll be going LIVE in the next 5 minutes, so–

(nightbot’s newest trick: “!nicecream”)