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#No I'm not done with these bitches
tvntheatre · 23 days
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⚔️@ballcrusher74 ♦ Fencer & Faux
🧸@shynighter Sinny
🍓@il0vecatsuwu Michael
Hey guys I drew your sillies.
Expect me to do something like this again, or repost, because I'm not done with you Fauxerz.
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cadere-art · 10 months
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A collection of diving birds.
A kingfisher, a pelican, an osprey, and a booby.
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haydardotjpg · 2 months
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Blood sticks, sweat drips Break the lock if it don't fit A kick in the teeth is good for some A kiss with a fist is better than none
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wait what do you mean a red string of fate ties us together but all we do is strangle each other with it. what do you mean this string can only stretch and tangle but never break and yet we keep biting and gnawing on it to try to free ourselves from it anyway.
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heavenly96 · 8 months
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Well, so far I'd like to strangle all of them but one:
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I'm sorry, are you allergic to me??
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Sage? No, no; that's my pickaxe.
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Useful. Adorable. Perfect.
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I've never questioned the unethical state of shark-fin soup so many times in my life.
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martianbugsbunny · 8 months
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Kallus being like U know what a bitch is tired of losing to a spraypainted teenage Mandalorian obsessed with explosives, a cringefail father figure with low self-esteem, a hotshot pilot with daddy issues and a murderous old junker of a droid/bestie, a scrappy blueberry child with sixty different aliases, and a lavender cat man who has a case of resting bitch face SO HE JUST JOINS THEM. congrats guys u have added a gayass ex-Imperial with muttonchops to your motley crew simply by being annoying.
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dangerous-advantage · 9 months
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jin ling, having done some stupid shit: my uncle's gonna kill me!
lan sizhui, serenely: it's ok, your other uncle's a necromancer
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I don't know how to explain to you that art exists for its own sake. it doesn't belong to its audience because love doesn't equal ownership. if you create art in the forest and no one hears it, it still makes a sound. an artist can feel proud of their work for reasons other than audience reception. showrunners shouldn't change direction due to fandom tweets. when I mentioned I was engaged, a stranger told me "I hope being married doesn't affect your output." artists don't work for you and art is not a service. your favourite fic isn't real and it can't love you back. I don't know how to explain to you that artists don't owe you anything.
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snackugaki · 1 year
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glasses and gadgets gang
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starrysharks · 11 months
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space city idol 👽
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strinak · 4 months
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anyway. this is your notice that I will be liberally blocking blogs pushing antivoting/both parties are the same/etc bullshit. I am fully Not Here For It, as someone living in a deeply red state. I have had actual human people, to my face, at my fucking retail job, advocate for civil war and treason and military overthrow of the federal government. I cannot EXPRESS to you how little fucking patience I have for leftist infighting at this point!!!
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m-kyunie · 7 months
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marching forward through the Gates of Hell
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leupagus · 3 months
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Am I writing this largely because I enjoy the idea of Sansa and Stannis constantly hissing at each other like two belligerent cats? Listen,
x
By the first week of the siege, Sansa was forced to admit — if only to herself —that warfare was far less exciting than she'd imagined. When she had been told of Robb's victories in the Riverlands she had always pictured him triumphant upon a fearsome destrier, sword held high as he cut down his enemies before him. Then he'd been killed and she had lived through the Battle of the Blackwater, waiting either rescue or slaughter by the very man who was now her ally. That had not been exciting, precisely, but it had not been this dull and plodding affair. A far cry from the valiant knights and noble battles she'd read when she was a girl; but she'd had precious little turn out the way she'd been taught.
She slept at the camps near the front lines, in the same soldier's tent she and Brienne and Podrick had shared for the past four months. Stannis had made all sorts of ridiculous protests about "ladies" and "danger" until she'd had to remind him, once again, that her eight thousand men gave her the freedom to dictate her own movements.
"All very well while we're waiting out here, my lady," he'd growled in response, after his requisite glare at her flawless logic, "But when battle joins, you'll be nothing more than a nuisance."
"In which case, I'll be quickly killed and you can have Rickon installed as Lord of Winterfell instead," she'd replied, "as you were hoping to do in the first place." That had shut him up, at least, and he'd gone back to scowling at Winterfell's walls.
Every night when she returned to the camp, she stopped at Stannis's tent and joined the conference with their commanders and lieutenants. It was then that she learned about the waging of war: how men were best deployed, how training was maintained even in the midst of a siege, how sickness was kept at bay so that it did not kill more soldiers than did the battles. Stannis disliked her presence there, too, but she was rapidly coming to understand that he would only be truly happy when she was out of his life for good. Possibly not even then. He did not seem a man much given to smiles.
The men did not share Stannis's view, at least; as she walked through the lines each morning and night they stood to bow to her, and press the back of her hand to their foreheads as she remembered they had done to Mother so long ago.
"They say that the old gods have brought you back to us," Lord Reed told her one day, as he accompanied her on her daily walk to the winter town. "That they were angered when the Starks were driven from Winterfell, and that they're drawing you all back here one by one. They say that Robb Stark may come back from the dead, such is the rage of the gods, and avenge all who wronged your house."
Joffrey had been diligent in recounting every detail of what had happened to Robb's body after Roose Bolton had killed him. She repressed a shudder to think of it and held more tightly to Reed's arm, grateful for the warmth of him at her side. "I hope they are not disappointed if all they get is me and Rickon."
Reed chuckled. "They're well-satisfied, my lady," he said. They walked into the winter town just as the sun broke over the mountains. "You're a sight prettier than the Young Wolf ever was, that's certain."
The winter town was where her real work was done each day. It was the custom every winter for the smallfolk of the North to leave their hides holdfasts and journey here, bringing what they could cart or carry. The winter town would eventually house nearly one in three of every soul living in the North, seeking shelter together to endure the cold.
The Boltons had not bothered to do their duty, laying in no provisions and building no new housing. Up until now it had mattered little; even as the winds had begun to blow, few smallfolk had dared to come take shelter under the banners of the flayed man. The town itself had been all but abandoned, until word of the Starks' return had begun to spread throughout the North.
Now the winter town seemed to double in size with each passing day despite the ongoing siege of the Keep. Sansa had her hands full in directing builders, organizing kitchens, allocating what resources they had to feed and shelter everyone. In this she was aided by any number of friends and allies: those servants and household members who had first escaped during Winterfell's seizure by the Ironborn, or who had endured that but had fled the Boltons' brutal takeover; the households of her lords who had come to support the siege; even Lady Umber and her formidable staff lent a hand before she returned to Last Hearth. Her most steadfast assistants were Rickon and Shireen, who at first had joined her out of boredom but were now her little lieutenants, breathlessly updating her on all events of the previous night as she joined them for breakfast each morning. She received aid also from her men in the armies, assigning their builders to fortify the town in much the same way they were fortifying the siege camp.
Her lords approved of this; Stannis, of course, did not.
"You seek another threescore soldiers?" he demanded one evening.
The siege had now dragged on near a month. Bolton's men showed signs of distress, Lord Flint reported with no small satisfaction; they would not last much longer. But this had brought a fresh concern, and Sansa had broached it during their evening conference.
"We need to build up the palisades along the eastern side of the winter town," Sansa insisted, pointing at the map spread out along the table, with the various pieces representing the various companies all arrayed neatly atop. Stannis's wooden flaming hearts were outnumbered by Sansa's wolf heads two to one, though many of hers appeared hastily-carved from whatever spare wood was at hand. She reached for a flaming heart on the far side of the Keep, well away from the siege. "It need only be for—"
"Give me that," Stannis snapped, snatching it back. "Those men are covering the huntsman's gate, should any of Bolton's forces be cowardly enough to attempt escape rather than stand and fight."
"And you anticipate that happening in the next day?" she demanded, resisting the urge to lunge for the piece the way she used to with Robb when he had teasingly stolen her embroidery, holding it just out of reach. "There must be fifty or sixty men out of twelve thousand that can be spared."
"Why are the palisades in need of building up in the first place?" Stannis demanded, as Lord Glover opened and then shut his mouth to reply to her. "This winter town of yours is folly — you cannot grant entry to every farmer and tinker who pleads for shelter."
Sansa gaped at him in outrage, though even as she did so she was heartened to hear the murmur of her lords at such a comment. "That is precisely what is done, and has been for every winter since before Bran the Builder set stones to build Winterfell!" She glared at him. "This is a refuge, Your Grace."
"This is a siege, my lady," he retorted, looming over her. She thought longingly of the beautiful heeled shoes Margaery wore; she needed only a few inches to match Stannis's height, and see what good his looming did him then. "The smallfolk congregate here at their own risk!"
"My people congregate here because they believe I will keep them safe, and I will do so. With or without Your Grace's help!"
"Without, if it pleases my lady!"
Half-ready to club him over the head with the nearest chair, Sansa grabbed the flaming heart out of his hands and waved it in his face. "What are these men supposed to do, if Bolton and his soldiers escape out this way?"
Stannis looked too near a fit of apoplexy to reply, so it was Lord Cerwyn who cleared his throat and answered, "They are charged to report back, my lady, with some following at a safe distance to see where they go."
"It's perfectly obvious where they'll go," Sansa snapped. "Lord Bolton will make for the Dreadfort."
"Of course he will," said Stannis, finding his voice at last, though he did not try for the wolf's-head piece again. "That doesn't mean—"
"I know three dozen local boys who could hide along the route from the huntsman's gate to the eastern road and bring back reports, without clomping about the forests in full armor," Sansa said, slamming the piece down at the winter town. "And they might be able to bring back some food, while they're at it. Unlike your soldiers, they know how to hunt in the Wolfswood without frightening off half the game."
A few days later, she had her men.
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bariettan · 1 month
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this is what special episode 5 was called, right?
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wookgerine · 3 months
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insomnya777 · 1 month
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do you guys know that youtube dating show called the button. because i was watching it with my friend the other day bc we were bored and we were like this seems funny and i somehow got a boat boys fic idea based off of it. so if i make a fic about the button dating show will people underdtand or is it too niche
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leslutdepointedulac · 9 months
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Reasons why Louis de Pointe du Lac is a messy af deranged as anything dude (despite hiding behind his sad boi exterior so we don't remember his messiness):
He beat up a priest cause he was chatting shit about his dead brother
He was turned on by killing a guy during his vampire initiation
He said that he would rather kill a child than part with his money
He set his house on fire
He ate a child (Claudia) after basically starving himself for 4 years living off only animals
He stood and watched Claudia kill Lestat before dumping him in a swamp
He set Lestat on fire
He ditched Claudia for Armand despite only knowing him for 2 seconds
He set the Theatre on fire
He drained Daniel, not caring whether or not he actually died, and then just left him half dead
He denied Lestat help cause 'he got himself into this mess, he can get himself out'
He said he likes it when his victims struggle when he kills them
He didn't give a single fuck when Marius killed Arjun and said they were 'disturbing his reading'
Feel free to add more if I've missed any. I probably have.
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