mas week


Do I have an explanation for this? No not really

Saihara’s Dragon Maid!! Ft Ouma as Tohru and Himiko as Kanna.

Hat-less Saihara sprite by @photoshopronpa !!

The documentary Eight Days a Week really opened my eyes a LOT to why the Beatles stopped touring.

It’s become so accepted that they stopped touring because they were sick of it, but the fact that there were bomb threats at their shows in America and they had to be transported in steel meat trucks is so inhumane.

For people that were regarded so highly at the time, it’s so surprising that they were treated like items.

Il suffira d'un jean..
Un matin heinheinhein
Un matin tout tranquilleuh
C'est certain
Déchirez nos guenilles
De vaurien…

Benoît Hamon en jean. .. et d'un coup tu sens que pour lui enfin la saison des bbq avec les potes va pouvoir COMMENCER !! Youhouhouhou !
@lespetitesframboises @theblackwook @ahmonbenoit @benoitcinnhamonroll @cinn-hamonbourge @temporiservire @onestenrepublique @carry-on-josten @audre-w @maralpais-litique @piepito @elevateen

quizzikemen  asked:

For the prompt 8/ "Why are you so jealous ?" with your babes ❤

This… got away from me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

She had not signed up for this. Despite its slowly growing status as a trade hub, Skyhold still lacked a great many things: running water, fresh fruit, and, in many places, ceilings. Yet, to Athi’s dismay, there seemed to be no shortage of paperwork.

Restless and exhausted, she tossed down her pen and leaned back in the plush red armchair, flexing and extending her stiff fingers and twisting her wrists at harsh angles. The creak of the chair’s wood frame drowned out the cracklings in her joints, but she felt every one. Surely, hours had passed and she could leave the rest of her mostly organized pile for tomorrow. Surely.

She blearily looked around to readjust her eyes. Sunlight filtered in through the west-facing window, illuminating countless dust motes which hung weightless in the angled diamonds of light now stretched across the worn wooden floorboards. Long since tuned out, the chattering of Leliana’s ravens flooded back into her awareness, as did the sway of rich ivory fabrics and scented oils.

“You won’t get out of doing paperwork by fouling up the job, you know.” Dorian’s hearty, melodic voice cut into the noise. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Athi stared up at him in confusion. “But I haven’t—”

“Your pen, my friend.” He reached down and picked up the implement, depositing it with a clatter into the inkwell. Athi groaned as she saw the small, but spreading, puddle of ink which now marred the top few pages of her pile, and hurried to stem the flow.

“It seems you’ve been betrayed by a writing implement.” Dorian sighed dramatically. “Oh, how exciting your life is!”

She briefly looked away from her small disaster to glare at him. “Can I help you?”

“I seriously doubt it. My problems are, after all, incredibly complex.”

“Don’t test me, pretty boy,” she warned. “I am hungry and tired, I just ruined a half hour’s worth of work, and I will absolutely take it out on you.”

Dorian looked affronted. “Pretty boy? Honestly, I am grateful that you recognized my stunning good looks, but you could at least try to be less disparaging with your compliments next time.” Athi rolled her eyes in response.

“Regardless of your attempts to shoo me away,” he continued, leaning against the bookcase, “I’ve only come to remind you of the time, which happens to be the usual one for supper. I’ve noticed you tend to forget about it. Now, before you take that as a slight, please keep in mind that I have done this because I am a good person, who deserves better treatment than that which I’ve recently received.”

Athi shook her head, but smiled at his poorly masked thoughtfulness. “I’ll inform Josephine—see if we can’t get a new Inquisitor around here. Perhaps one more inclined to appropriately flatter handsome men?”

“Well, not all the handsome men. My goodness, we’d have a veritable menagerie of peacocks strutting about! No, I suppose we shall have to suffer your half-hearted accolades. For now, at least.”

“Such a martyr,” she teased, moving toward the door. “Will you join me?”

Dorian gave a dramatic sigh and walked over with another flourish of his hands. “Oh, I might as well. You’ll need someone to entertain you while you eat, I suppose.”

“That’s exactly it.”

As they passed by the balustrade, the sound of faint feminine laughter drifted up from the room below.

Solas’ study.

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