Rough Sketches Of A Bisexual Pirate Elf Lady. Because I Was Feeling Angry And I Needed A Badass Character

just putting a little something in the tags of an artist’s work will definitely make their day

john faa and maggie costa is the relationship we should be yammering about. asriel this marisa coulter that. where's the quiet strength, where's the unassuming command, the unflagging respect. where's the actual parental emotion and action instead of the occasional closeup on their face as they sadly contemplate the burden of being responsible for a child and then shirk it immediately. where's the love and tenderness. it's right there. with john faa, king of the western gyptians, and maggie costa, the best mother in the world, holding hands while they take the bolvangar children home. it is Right There.

send a number and a prompt you know the drill

|| for noldobroideress in Edain palette #23

I.. wanted to draw Bahorel wearing that vest [x] and I don’t know what happened.

rolls up a year and a half late with starbucks and part one of the kaysanova getting-together fic series, in which nicky develops a conscience and absolutely no one gets together except to kill each other some more

READ ON AO3 • 3,025 / 7,671 WORDS

"Okay, let's go steal the Magisterium."

~

leverage s3 & his dark materials s1 ; alec hardison/parker/eliot spencer ; multichapter ; rated T.

part two: in which a conversation may be had about autonomy.

Winter days. JolyxGrantaire Modern AU

Winter days were the best in Grantaire’s opinion. It meant more time with Joly and hot chocolate. (Lots of whipped cream for Grantaire and a ton of little marshmallows for Joly) Winter meant they got to spend time in there own little world and it lasted months.

Raise Me

Raise Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character resurrecting yours. Vice versa.

|| .. maybe not exactly ‘resurrection’, but close enough?

—

The earth cracked and rolled beneath him, and the storm raged blacker than night above him; and hail crashed down, and the towering water roared in one great bellow before all at once everything hit.

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LES MIS RULE 63 Gina Torres as Inspector Javert

Some police officers have a peculiar expression, combining an air of meanness with an air of authority. Javert had this, without the meanness. 

The peasants of the Asturias believe that in every litter of wolves there is one pup that is killed by the mother for fear that on growing up it would devour the other little ones.

Give a human face to this wolf’s whelp, and you have Javert.

Javert was born in a prison. Her mother was a fortune-teller whose husband was in the galleys. She grew up thinking herself outside of society, and despaired of ever entering it. She noticed that society irrevocably closes its doors on two classes of people, those who attack it and those who guard it; she could choose between these two classes only; at the same time she felt that she had a powerful foundation of rectitude, order, and honesty based on an irrepressible hatred for that race to which she belonged. She entered the police. She succeeded. At forty she was an inspector.

Her face consisted of a regal nose, broad cheekbones, and deep brown eyes. One felt ill at ease on first seeing her thick eyebrows and strongly defined nose and lips. When she laughed, which was rarely and terribly, her voluptuous lips parted, showing her teeth. When she laughed, Javert was a tiger; strange, majestic, terrifying. Beyond that, she had an oval face, a square jaw, thick black hair that fell over her shoulders, between the eyes a permanent central crease like an angry star, a gloomy look, and an air of fierce command.

first doodle with my new tablet stylus, courtesy of @whosamawhatsit!