sheltering-arms

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asoiaf meme: (1/3) legends ➝ THE BUILDING OF STORM’S END

The songs said that Storm’s End had been raised in ancient days by Durran, the first Storm King, who had won the love of the fair Elenei, daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind. On the night of their wedding, Elenei had yielded her maidenhood to a mortal’s love and thus doomed herself to a mortal’s death, and her grieving parents had unleashed their wrath and sent the winds and waters to batter down Durran’s hold. His friends and brothers and wedding guests were crushed beneath collapsing walls or blown out to sea, but Elenei sheltered Durran within her arms so he took no harm, and when the dawn came at last he declared war upon the gods and vowed to rebuild. […] No matter how the tale was told, the end was the same. Though the angry gods threw storm after storm against it, the seventh castle stood defiant, and Durran Godsgrief and fair Elenei dwelt there together until the end of their days.

Who remembers hearing the spoilers about Glee shooting a skating scene in NYC and we all assumed it would be Finchel - but of course - it’s always Finchel…and then…and then…

Chris and Darren showed up and let themselves be free and we had a glorious and unprecedented 12 hour riot that Chris himself regarded as one of his favorite filming memories ever?

Good memories, my friends.

Still going strong.

  • Settler:Thanks for single-handedly killing all those super mutants on the other side of the Commonwealth that were scaring us. We've decided to join the Minutemen. We need to help each other out if we want things to get better.
  • Sole Survivor:Great! So you're willing to help defend your neighbors now?
  • Settler:Oh, heavens no. By "join the Minutemen" I meant "make you personally responsible for sheltering, feeding, watering, clothing, arming, defending, and rescuing me and everyone on my settlement."
She did not need much, wanted very little. A kind word, sincerity, fresh air, clean water, a garden, kisses, books to read, sheltering arms, a cosy bed, and to love and be loved in return.
—  Starra Neely Blade

“Dance with me,” he smiled, holding his hand out to Cas.

“Are you sure? Can you handle this?”

“Damn straight or die trying.”

Cas grinned and let Dean pull him into the shelter of his arms.

“All this time we were waiting for each other. All this time I was waiting for you. Got all these words, can’t waste them on another. So I’m straight in a straight line running back to you.”

They swayed in each other’s arms, in time with the music. Cas felt like he was floating. Surrounded by their children and their beloved brothers in the city where it all finally came back together, Cas didn’t think he could be happier than he was in that moment. Looking into Dean’s shining eyes, it was clear he felt the same.

Old man Destiel! OMG. From the final Painted Angels piece, In My Life. This scene takes place in Chapter Two. 

Just one piece left from linneart, who has been a joy to work with. 

She did not need much, wanted very little. A kind word, sincerity, fresh air, clean water, a garden, kisses, books to read, sheltering arms, a cosy bed, and to love and be loved in return.
—  Starra Neely Blade

Minnie is a darling girl with a mysterious condition: feline hyperesthesia. 

This means Minnie needs a house full of peace and quiet.  We’re talking zen levels of peace and quiet.   According to her buddies at Give Me Shelter Cat Rescue in San Francisco, she would do best as your one and only, in a nice, laid back home.

But her condition doesn’t stop her from doing what she loves to do: eat, play, snuggle! In this crazy, wired world, where everyone is tied to their cellphones and tablets and emails and everything else, wouldn’t you love to come home to a zen-cat?  Where you could sit back and relax, and Minnie could snuggle in your arms and purr the night away? 

If that sounds like an awesome plan to you, call Maria at 415-794-6663!

Tar black sky strewn about the horizon.
The moon lit only half its body.
A breeze chilling deep into my bones.
Stars dance in colorful sync
as my eyes attempt to catch them
before they sheepishly retreat
into the darkness of the night.
No gloves to warm my hands.
No love to warm my soul.
Isolated under the midnight sky
with only specs of light to keep me
sane.

Clouds blanket the only light of the night
Snow begins to fall
and melt against my rose-y cheeks.
The snow turns to chilling drops
rolling down my face
imitating the emotions I choose to suppress.
No shelter in sight.
No arms to keep me safe.
“Have I gone mad? I ask myself,
As if my whereabouts has not already answered for itself.”

Distraught
Confused
Resentful
All towards my own being.
This body
harboring my one soul
Is not a fitting place to reside.
Darkness
Isolation
Confined to my own mind.
Confined
Yet somehow I am so free
Free to be myself
Free to choose my own path
Free to determine wrong from right.
Perhaps my own morality has been
Skewed.

The snow seizes to fall
Clouds begin to roll
Stars resume their nightly performance
The moon still lit only half its body
Its potential hidden behind
The darkness of the atmosphere.

Perhaps
I am like the moon
Half my soul
Hidden by the
darkness
Of the unknown.
Consumed by the
Torment
embedded in my mind.

A spec of light,
Different from that of the stars,
Claws its way over mountains.
The sun begins to take its place
Overshadowing the half-lit moon
and all of its subjects.

Perhaps
Someday
I could be as the sun.
Bringing light to each day.
The sun is never shaded by the
Darkness
Of the unknown.
The sun is never embarrassed to reveal the
Torment
Of its whole being.

Perhaps
Someday
I will be as the sun.
Rising each day
Bringing forth my whole being
Not searching for a reason
to hide my unknown.

I will be the sun
I will not be half-lit
I will no longer need gloves warm my hands
Because I will have found
Love
To warm my heart.

But then again
Perhaps
I will not be as the sun
Because
Maybe the sun isn’t what I’m looking for
Maybe I am just searching
For something to light
The other half of the moon.
—  26/02/2016, The Other Half of the Moon (via @faded-and-dreaming)

Those tents look pretty cramped in DA.

accidental pre-romance solavellan cuddling – @kreebby

Notes: 100% fluffy stuff. ~1200 words.

I know there are some people that could use some cheering up today, and this is dedicated to all of you. I hope this makes you feel better. Love you guys!<3

The first camp they set up in the Hinterlands is… not pretty. The people who are actually skilled at setting things up couldn't make it there before the sun set, so “camp” consists of a campfire and two thin tents that are barely put together. Two relatively small tents. Solas sets up wards so nobody has to stay up through the night, and then the four stand in front of the shelters, bedrolls in arms.

“There are only two tents,” Karliah states. “I’m not even used to sleeping in one. I’ll sleep out here.”

Cassandra grunts. “Of course not. You’ll have a tent. We can’t have someone walk by and find the Herald asleep under a bush.”

Karliah places her bedroll on the ground, perching on top of it. “I’m not taking a tent if it means somebody else isn’t getting one.”

“Two lanky elves, a dwarf, and a human? We’ll all fit into those tents,” Varric says. “I’ll share with Chuckles, you take the stabby one.”

“The stabby one-“ Cassandra starts.

“Yes, Cassandra and I will share,” Karliah interrupts.

“Actually,” Solas offers, leaning onto his staff, bedroll tucked under one arm, “I would much rather sleep out here, Varric. I am only accustomed to sleeping with stars or crumbling ruins over my head.”

“Have it your way,” Varric mumbles, chucking his bedroll into one of the tents.

Solas sets up his bedroll against a thick tree trunk as everyone else settles into their tents. After a few minutes of a perfected breathing technique, he’s asleep and wandering the Fade.

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