jeweled boots

SLYTHERIN: “I mean, what can any one of us ever really fuckin’ hope for, huh? Except for a moment here and there with a person who doesn’t want to rob, steal, or murder us? At night, it may happen. Sun-up, one person against the fuckin’ wall, the other may hop on the fuckin’ bed trusting each other enough to tell half the fucking truth. Everybody needs that. Becomes precious to ‘em. They don’t want to see it fucked with.” -Ricky Jay (Al Swearengen: Deadwood: Jewel’s Boot is Made for Walking)

2100 (feat. BOOTS)
Run The Jewels
2100 (feat. BOOTS)

They don’t want your love, shit is bugged
Motherfuckers steady getting rich from the blood
Love when you beg
Trust, I would sooner put a puckered pair of lips to the sun
Love will survive, Run out under iridescent lights for our lives
I will be surprised if we ever got the feeling so alive as tonight
Wild for the night, Look into my eyes
I am standing at your side for the fight
Minds over might
Swear to God
They could barely even see the dog
They don’t see the size of the fight

LWYMMD references

1. Taylor’s initials written with lit grave stones


3. Zombie!Taylor wearing the OOTW dress aka the last visual of 1989 coming out of the grave

4. SHE KILLED OFF NILS SJOBERG TOO Y’ALL (Taylor’s pseudonym in This Is What You Came For)

5. Blank Space Taylor smiling in her grave, being buried by Zombie Tay

6. Here’s a clip of Taylor talking about her image saying media paints her as if she collects men then cries in her bathtub surrounded by jewelry &&& peep @ that $1 in reference to her court case? 

7. “A Latin sentence meaning “Even you, Brutus?” from the play Julius Caesar, by William Shakespeare. Caesar utters these words as he is being stabbed to death, having recognized his friend Brutus among the assassins. Note : “Et tu, Brute?” is used to express surprise and dismay at the treachery of a supposed friend.”

8. this totally reminded me of of a snow white or cinderella type of “the birds and mice help me” kinda of thing. ALL HAIL SNAKE QUEEN 

9. “Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street
Faster than the wind, passionate as sin ending so suddenly”

10. (she’s actually crashing a Bugatti) GOLD ERRYTHING. rich taylor drives around in her gold cars, with gold coffee cups, she hoards her gold jewelry and grammy in her car bc she’s too busy locking up men in her mansions!!!1!1

11. peep at her kitty rocking a 13 chain


13. she’s being guarded in a cage; zoo animal metaphor? matches the chained up/back imagery on the album cover


15. STREAM CO. a reference to Taylor’s Apple Music letter and removing her music from streaming sites like Spotify & people calling her money hungry

16. skinny/model like girls in black latex (similar to Bad Blood) being initiated into Taylor’s squad, a play on the Swift Squad rhetoric 


18. old (dead) taylor’s trying to survive. new taylor literally boots junior jewel taylor. here’s a post on some taylor’s you might not have caught in the pile 


20. taylor can’t dance? bitch where?

21. at last, taylor’s private jet, with “TS” and “TS6″ on it in gold parked in lot 13!

watch the video here!! 

automatonprince  asked:

Fenris follows Hawke to Skyhold and Hawke has to awkwardly introduce him to everyone. Including the cocky, Tevinter, mage.

Fenris took a spot next to Hawke in the small tavern, sweeping his gaze across it as he did. There was an air to the Herald’s Rest that Fenris had noticed throughout Skyhold, but it felt stronger here as if it were the source. There was a sense of community and belonging all these people seemed to have, the way they interacted, the revered and excited glances they gave to those in the Inquisitor’s inner circle, and the simple nods Fenris had received from strangers when their eyes met. Months of being alone prickled down his neck, but he was sure that wasnt the only reason he felt like an odd one out.

Hawke slid a tankard to Fenris, gripping his hand in the elf’s reassuringly. “It’s not that bad is it?” Hawke asked with a smile. Fenris narrowed his eyes at him, still sore about Hawke making him stay behind when he first left.  

Fenris took a sip of the drink, pleased to find their ale wasn’t as watered down as he expected. But he shrugged at Hawke’s question, “It’s freezing.” He said quietly, he still couldn’t feel his toes and he refused to wear the clunky fur boots Hawke got for him unless he was scaling down the mountains and rolling in the snow. “Everyone here is fanatically following someone with a fade-controlling thing on her hand. And there’s a quinari that has already worked out five ways he could take me down.”

“No he didn’t” Hawke interrupted, turning in his seat to look over at Iron Bull, who was engaged in an animated conversation with his chargers in the far corner of the tavern.

“Oh he did.” Fenris smiled, The Iron Bull was probably the only inquisition member he had met that he had understood and didn’t immediately distrust. The two elves were both mad, in opposite and troubling ways. The first enchanter was avoided entirely, as was Cullen and Cassandra. He didn’t need to meet them to know how those conversations would have gone. The warden they had was a broken man, slumped shoulders and evasive eyes. And the farther the demon stayed away from him the better, he didn’t like it when it talked. Fenris thought Hawke had a knack for collecting misfits but this Inquisitor was giving him a run for his money. 

Fenris turned at the sound of squealing chair legs and heightened voices across the tavern. He couldnt quite see what had caused the seemingly uncharacteristic disruption at the other end of the room but could distinctly hear Varric’s voice hissing something to another patron. At least that felt familiar, even if it called back to memories that felt over a lifetime ago. Hawke squeezed his hand, as if to call his attention away, Fenris turned to him to see an expression on the man’s face that he couldnt quite pick appart.

Well.” A voice announced, Fenris felt himself tense before he put his eyes on the approaching, slightly drunk, Tevinter. Oh, of course the inquisition had a Tevinter mage on their roster. “Regardless of what Varric and-” he pointed to Hawke, flourishing his words with ease that was clearly not just from the drink, “the Champion of Kirkwall have to say it would be a shame for us not to meet.”

Fenris set his jaw, held eye contact with the man, it had been a long time since he heard a Tevinter accent, especially one from a tevinter noble. “I’m sure.” Fenris almost growled, shaking his hand from Hawke’s increased grip.

“Dorian of House-,” The man started before breaking into a smile, “Oh look, you’re already bristling aren’t you? That’s quite alright, I’m sick of that introduction myself. Doesn’t impress much around here.”

Fenris looked at Hawke, who was making a face across the tavern to Varric who had his hands up in defeat. They had been trying to keep them apart, of course they were. 

“But I thought you ought to know,” Dorian continued, a disappointed gaze sweeping over the fur-lined cloak Fenris had taken to bundling in, “That you are still a popular topic back in Minrathous.”

“Oh.” Fenris raised a brow, feeling curious as to where this was going despite the discomfort the conversation brought him. 

“Oh yes.” Dorian almost gushed, smartly grabbing at Hawke’s arm for support as he wobbled, instead of Fenris’. “All those magisters shaking in their jeweled boots, whispering about the slave that killed every hunter sent after him, slaying his master before engaging himself with the Champion of Kirkwall. Wonderful, the stories get more and more grand over time. Quite the cautionary tale of why you shouldn’t infuse your slaves with lyrium, the last version I heard was that you chased Danarius all the way to Rivain and cut his head off in the streets.”

Fenris smiled, could almost feel Hawke’s confusion at his side. “That is a bit of a departure.” He could almost see Dorian relax at the comment, the mage as on edge as he was. 

“Between us,” Dorian cocked his head, leaning closer by only an inch. “Danarius was an ass. I’m glad you rid us of his presence, if only it was as easy to toss half of the magisterium with him.”

part two - robb stark: ice and fire


REQUESTED BY: @rubyquartzshades 

You closed your eyes, feeling the hot water on your skin. The ceremony is just hours away and you wanted to enjoy some peaceful time with yourself. It’s been months since you were engaged and now you are finally getting married in Winterfell. But news of King Robert’s arrival in the North daunted you. Knocks erupted and you wrapped your robe around you as you opened your door, and the Stark ladies entered your room.

Sansa stood next to her lady mother whilst Arya sat on your bed. Catelyn motioned for her stand up, and she did. Sansa approaced you with a big smile on your face, handing you a scarf of red and black. “I made it for you,” she said softly. It was black but with strips of red, and your house’s words were sewed on it, tiny but you can still read it.

“Thank you, Sansa,” you said as you eyed the scarf. It was beautiful and delicately made, and you gave her a kiss on her cheeks.

Arya then gave you a piece of cloth and you opened it. There was an animal embroidered on it, with flashes of red. “Is this supposed to be my dragons?” You asked as you examined the linen.

Arya sighed, and nodded. “I tried to make it look like dragons.”

You laughed and gave her a kiss, “It’s wonderful, Arya. I love it!”

Soon after you were left with lady Catelyn as you dressed. She placed dabs of oil all over you, and braided your hair beautifully. “You’ll make such a wonderful bride,” she whispered as she took your hands. “I know you will be a good wife and mother.”

You hugged her for her wise words throught the years you were growing up, “Thank you, my lady.”

As Robb reached for your hand to stand in front of a heart tree. His mouth reached down to whisper in your ear, “You look divine.”

You blushed, and you gripped his hand. Both of you said your vows, and sealed the marriage with a kiss. Even the smallfolk were cheering as you walked down the aisle, as a Targaryen and Stark. There was a huge feast in honor of your marriage. You danced with Robb and he peppered you with kisses. You screamed at his ear, when the music grew louder. “I am your wife already!”

“And will be the mother of my children!” He yelled as the feast went on. He held your hips with a hand and twirled you with the other. He was slowly leading you out of the scene, to go forward with the bedding.

Keep reading

Another thing that the Greeks say, except that I learned this in Latin, is “primum non nocere”.
And that means, “first, do no harm”.
And this has been a great concern to me in your case.To interfere, even with the best of intentions, and have you misjudge your capacities, ‘cause you rely on some mechanical contraption and wind up hurting yourself, would be a poor use, indeed, of my very limited skills.
You can get around now, Jewel. I can only imagine with what difficulty and exertion and pain, but the moving around you can do is precious to you.
I do not want to fuck you up.