#I have real money

[buriedinmyownfeelings]

If I get Xiangling one more time I might scream

Or cry. Crying is also on the table

[muzsmocsing]

Being friends with Xie Lian would be so weird because this man peppers in bits of his insane life ruining trauma randomly mid sentence. You'd like accidentally step on his toes and he'd go "ah don't worry about it, that foot's been cut off and eaten before anyways" smile, and then never elaborate.

[hyunpic]

HYUNJIN AT VERSACE MFW 24

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[kaiserouo]

i swear im normal about that shell

[skunkes]

all of february's chibis ^_^

[padmestrilogy]

^ rare clip of a youtuber talking about the acolyte worth unmuting

[moomeecore]

Hey guys. So I know we've all gotten some very bad news, and anyone with a conscience is deeply upset. But one of the things this means is that the situation in Palestine is even more urgent, because we know that while Kamala might have, Trump isn't going to listen to any calls to lessen America's support of violence in Palestine. So, I'm putting out my next fundraiser post a bit earlier than expected - I really, really encourage you all to read these and try to match at least one of my donations, and reblog if you can't. I wish you all the best.

Waleed Ayman Alanqar and family - vetted (#107) - The fundraiser is for Waleed, his wife Areej Haniyyeh, and their 3 year old son, Ayman. They were forced from their home almost a year ago. The fundraiser is to help them raise the money needed for the family of 3 to evacuate to Egypt. They have €1,606 raised of their €20,000 goal - only 8%! - so I'm donating a little more than the usual €5 (€7). Waleed's tumblr account is @ayman-waleed, if you want more info.

Alaa and family - vetted - Alaa and her husband were displaced from their home on October 7, while Alaa was pregnant. Alaa's husband died before their daughter was even born, and now Alaa is raising her baby without him, after having to give birth without the needed medical care. Because of the poor conditions, her daughter has been suffering from illness, including a viral stomach infection and histolytica worms. Alaa needs to pay for her daughter's medical treatments, and for milk and diapers which are very expensive in Palestine right now. They have $14,280 raised out of their $30,000 goal. Alaa's account(s), for more information: @alaa-gaza / @alaa-gaza223

Wafaa Abdul Karim Abu Al-Rish and family - vetted / vetted - The fundraiser is for Wafaa (@wafaaresh3) and her family, which includes her mother, her brother Mohi (@mohiy-gaza), her sister Fidaa (@fidaa-family2), and Fidaa's two children (Sila, who is two years old, and Mohamed, who is 6 months old). They also have a cat. They have been displaced more than 10 times. Wafaa's mother has chronic illness (hypertension), and is unable to access her medicine, which means her health is getting increasingly worse over time. The main goal of the fundraiser is to help the family evacuate to Egypt. Wafaa's fundraiser has $74,018 raised out of her $85,000 goal.

I'm going to post a second part with three more fundraisers soon!

Here's my previous fundraiser posts: Post 1, post 2, post 3

[malenjoyer]

I just had a passing thought about my own stuff from an outsider POV. I wondered if anyone who’s not a huge fan of dick questions why Dick Grayson in most of the stuff I post…

Why all of a sudden Dick Grayson is the bus driver- because I hired him!!! I want to see him! I’m gonna put him in everything!

[forged-in-kaoss]

Romance Dawn Trio in Mock town

[yet-another-haven-of-dollya]

The long-awaited school break

Idea from Blue Archive short dj

[wwraithsart]

Summer nights ☆

(click for better quality!)

[yuwuta]

gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story

REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you 

but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact. 

he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared. 

he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date 

[bamsara]

hot take but i think if someone's parent(s) have died the government should support the remaining child/adult children with financial stuff to the age 26 (the age it is for other adult children to remain on their parent's healthcare plans, car insurance, ect) because I should not have been paying bills or losing healthcare at 17

[ruushes]

if i make my rook younger and less capable than the rest of the team, struggling to keep themself alive let alone lead older and more experienced colleagues while trying not to let slip their terrible fear of failure, is it really "me being bad at playing a rogue" or is it "emergent narrative"

[dyrpyn]

This election isn't looking great now.

BUT.

There is one thing you must ALWAYS. ALWAYS REMEMBER.

Your two greatest, most powerful weapons against evil, against bigotry and fascism, against hate, against even hate that comes from inside the self...

are Hope, and Spite.

If nothing else can fuel you, let these. Embrace these. Let these consume you, let them become all that you are.

Let Hope help you find light in the little details, silver linings to cling onto with bleeding hands and pockets of joy to admire in every day. Let it inject you with good faith, motivation to spread kindness where it is needed most, and deepening trust that this won't last forever.

Let Spite charge you with fury that carries you to make moves and take actions. Let it lead you to little victories right in the face of evil. Let it fuel you to do the strongest, most meaningful thing you can possibly do in this potential age: Thrive.

With enough reframing of perspectives and looking in the right places, even the most oppressed can find little ways to thrive in their personal communities, to find joy in every day. To forget how bad things are for even a second. To believe and see proof that they can change it all. To cling onto their Hope and Spite.

And THAT is the most powerful message you can send to those who wish to eradicate you.

We are the cockroaches who survive the radiation. We are the banged-up sewer rats who get in countless scuffles and still come crawling out of the tunnels covered in wounds to see the sunrise. For it rises every day no matter what may be brewing underneath its shine.

And we will watch every sunrise together. We will hold hands and sing in our defiance. We will always remain connected through our shared suffering and yet especially our shared Strength.

And with our weapons kept at our sides, we will all make it.