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#the strong eye
eff-plays · 8 months
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The way Astarion reacts depending on how you compliment him in the mirror scene (I have no interest in insulting him so I won't be covering that here, have fun though!) drives me fucking insane.
"I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."
And you get two types of responses. First, your choices for compliments are
Strong, piercing eyes.
The creases when you laugh.
Pick the first, and he's pleased. "Go on," he says, sounding very seductive. You're giving him exactly what he wants, and he's encouraging it.
Pick the second, and he gets upset. He's an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother! You can do better than that. Even if you meant it as a compliment (I know my Tav definitely did), he doesn't seem to take it that way.
Your second options are
That dangerous smile.
The way your hair curls around your ears.
Once again, the first one pleases him, and he even praises your efforts. Very good. Now finish the scene and tell him he's beautiful.
But if you say the second, he gets exasperated. This is meant to be flattery, not poetry. Just tell him he's beautiful and we can call it a day, he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He doesn't need to hear this crap, just tell him what he wants and fuck off.
Of course, it doesn't matter how you get to this point, and every dialogue option at the end of the scene nets you the same amount of approval. If you call him beautiful, it's +1. Call someone else beautiful, it's +1. If you ask whether he just wants shallow praise (aka don't call him beautiful), you get +1. So this is me pulling this out of my ass I guess.
I always choose to call him beautiful becuase 1) he is and 2) my Tav thinks so too and would oblige him if he asked for it that directly.
But I am obsessed with the different routes you can take to get to this point and what they imply.
Strong, piercing eyes and dangerous smile pleases him more outwardly, but doesn't actually affect the outcome. He's satisfied and confident with these compliments. They confirm what he's trying to project into the world, what he aspires to have and to be.
The creases when he laughs? The hair curling around his ears? Those are things he can't control, can't use against someone else. But he asked to be seen, and if this is what Tav sees, then what does that mean for him?
Why are they complimenting his laugh lines? Why are they speaking poetry at him? Why are they seeing things he has no control over, and why are they revealing them to him?
He doesn't want shallow praise. Questioning this nets approval, and giving it to him doesn't increase approval. What he wants is assurance that what he's trying to be is what the world sees, that he's in control.
And if you actually act as a mirror, point out the things unique to him that you see, he gets uncomfortable, because you're showing a reflection of someone he thinks he's not, of someone he has no control over. And that's scary, even if it's supposedly complimentary.
Because what's scarier than losing control?
But then, compared to how genuinely upset he seems when you insult him (I looked these up on YT for context), the laugh lines and hair curls are still accepted as compliments. So what does he think when Tav says these things?
They see past his piercing eyes and dangerous smile. They see something else that they like even more, things he's not aware of or doesn't appreciate as much. What does that feel like, to cultivate such a perfect image of oneself for the purposes of seducing and tricking others, and then be stumped when someone walks past all that and points out something entirely different that they noticed and found endearing?
Do you do him a favor, and tell him you see only what he wants to be? Or do you speak the truth, and show him what he actually is? Which one is better? Which one is worse?
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taikova · 7 months
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:D
D8
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notyourmusebby · 3 months
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save me carlos sainz’s big brown eyes save me
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pbnmj · 10 months
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noir fanartists deliberately ignoring how he doesn't need glasses anymore is so funny to me. i hope we all think he's blind as a bat
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libbyfandom · 5 months
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Mizu Touch-Starved Head-canons
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The way this women is probably so touch starved yet emotionally constipated. She just wants to touch you, but I think she’d rather get into another fight with an army than admit that.
You feel your braid shifting on your collarbone and you startle, your face jerking down as you instinctively take a half step back. You see familiar, slim fingers rubbing the end tail between fingers. Your eyes trail up the arm to see Mizu’s gaze on where she’s holding your hair. Blue eyes meet yours over the rim of her glasses. Her expression is unreadable, face blank. She turns and continues down the path, unaware of how your heart is beating faster at how she just… helped herself to touching you more intimately.
Mizu will grab your wrist to lead you through crowded streets filled with merchants and locals so you don’t get lost. Over time and instances her grip ends up lower and lower until she’s leading you around with your hand in hers. You ask why she doesn’t do this to Ringo, he’s the one more likely to run off. She tells you she’ll just listen for the bell, and dryly asks if you’re trying to get one too.
She walks so close her shoulder constantly brushes up against yours. You try to sidestep to widen the gap to prevent accidentally stepping on her foot. She always sways closer immediately, fast enough you start to realize it’s on purpose.
Brushing of shoulders turns into brushing of hands, and hers twitch each time like they do when they’re ready to rip her sword out and cut down her enemies. But they twitch closer to your fingers than to the sheath.
Brushing also turns into leaning. In the inns, next to the campfire, when she’s stitching herself up. Her weight leans into you and you in turn lean back to keep her upright. Her eyes flick toward you, glancing out of the corner, before going back to her needle.
When guards come through the inns looking for the onryo rumored to have swept into town, her head tilts down, using her kasa to conceal her face. She definitely did not need to also tilt it to the side to the point that you can feel her warm breath tickle your neck. Goosebumps rise on your skin, hand spasming at the sensation. Your opposite hand comes up to rub at the raised skin, and you hear a huff of amusement. Cool fingertips press against your neck, the lightest touch, before her hand is back at her side. Only Ringo catches her fist clenching, and then forcibly unclench before you can see.
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melyssaandrade · 1 year
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Aemond vs Daemon
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canisalbus · 6 months
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hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128
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✦ A Voi ✦
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shivroy · 6 months
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kendalling in oil
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drawerbread · 4 months
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yippee my first post!! my humble offering to the tlt fandom shall be this htn harrow (?)
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ft. eye details
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tottallytoby · 3 months
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cutie mark crusaders designs :3
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flowerandblood · 5 months
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The Fall from the Heavens
[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: kissing, angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, humiliation, bullying, chauvinism ]
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[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
He had always felt that he lacked something. Part of him claimed that if a dragon had hatched from his egg, things would have been different, however, years later, he recognised that this was not entirely true.
Aegon had a gift for light-hearted conversation, an ironic humour that he lacked. He kept telling him to smile at last, to get his nose out of his books, that he was boring, perpetually serious and withdrawn. He preferred to spend time with Jace and Luke − they were louder and funnier than him, they understood him, they had dragons, they had what he was missing.
They didn't spare unpleasant comments even to their own sister, calling her a hamster, most likely referring to her rosy, firm cheeks and big eyes.
He could see that she was running away from them crying, but he wasn't going to comfort her. She was a girl, her world seemed to him as distant as Essos, completely incomprehensible to him, filled with beautiful gowns, embroidery and music.
The only thing they had in common was books.
They bumped into each other occasionally in the library, and although at first they simply pretended not to see one another, one day she dared to sit next to him as he looked through the family tree of their ancestors.
"What are you doing?" She asked, placing the large volume on the table in front of them with difficulty. He huffed as the dust that rose with her movement reached his nostrils, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that it was The Great History of Aegon the Conqueror.
He did not reply, turning the page of the book, not knowing why he should explain it to her.
He didn't believe her, didn't trust her, didn't want her.
She was a bastard, though she probably didn't know it herself, wallowing in riches like a princess even though she didn't deserve them.
He didn't want her pity, attention or anything else she could give him.
He didn't want to be her second choice, the place she ran to because her brothers were mean to her; he had his own, in his mind very adult, worries and he didn't want to listen to hers.
"Is this a book dedicated to our family history?" She asked softly, leaning out so that she could see what he was reading. She stood up coming closer to him and he pressed his lips together when he smelled her pleasant scent, some intense vanilla oil.
He felt a tightening and burbling in his stomach at the thought of the cake that smelled similar, which his mother had ordered to be baked for his Name Day a few months earlier.
"Ah, our family tree. Where are we?" She asked cheerfully, as if intrigued, and he sighed heavily, reluctantly flipping forward a few pages, tracing their line with his finger, showing her a place at the very end.
He swallowed loudly as he saw how Laenor Velaryon was written in the space where her father was inscribed, trying not to smile with mockery.
She leaned lower, looking at the area he had pointed at and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her cheek right next to his.
He was surprised at how different they were, apart from the obvious fact that he was a man and she was a woman.
His eyelashes were almost white and translucent and hers were black, long, surrounding her shining eyes, making them seem even bigger to him. His skin was pale, thin as parchment when hers was flushed and full of life, her lips plump and moist, her nose shapely and straight, the contour of her face gentle as his jaw was outlined sharply.
And finally, his hair, the colour of Targaryen's, the white she lacked, her luscious black curls falling gently down her back was visible proof of who her father was.
Although he liked to mock her in spirit, he couldn't say she was ugly or repulsive.
"Would you marry Helaena if our King so commanded?" She asked curiously, glancing sideways at his seated figure. He lifted his gaze to her and sighed heavily, figuring that nothing would happen if he spoke to her for a while.
She was simply bored, just like him, and he didn't get the impression that she had come to entertain herself at his expense.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Yes. I would do my duty as a Prince and son of the King." He said lowly, solemnly, fiddling between his fingers with the page of the book he had just looked at, crossing his legs − even though he was still a child, he was trying to sound and look like a man.
She cocked her head, clearly genuinely intrigued by his statement, a wide smile on her face.
"Are you in love with her?" She asked as if it was obvious, as if she was encouraging him to reveal his little secret to her. He looked at her in disbelief, not knowing what to make of her question. He swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze, feeling his heart pounding fast.
What did it matter?
"Well…she's my sister. Of course I love her." He replied coolly, feeling strange with the words on his tongue, as if there was something inappropriate about them.
"I love Jace too, but I'm not in love with him. There's a difference." She said with a kind of calmness and wisdom that surprised him; she stood beside him looking at him with a gentle expression on her face that consternated him.
Why were they even having this conversation?
Still, her words made him feel a tightness in his throat, a realisation that he understood what she meant, but didn't want to admit it.
The tenderness of falling in love, the poems and the late-night frolicking were the domain of women's imagination, which unfortunately then had to collide with the cruel reality. He was a man, however, and he had no intention of getting into these deep divagations of the weaker sex.
"Don't be naïve. Marriage is not meant to be a pleasure. It is meant to be a sacrifice for the good of the kingdom, to secure its needs." He said dryly, turning back to the page he had been reading earlier, frustrated for some reason by her remark.
She did not speak again, returning to her seat, sinking into reading the gigantic volume dedicated to Aegon the Conqueror.
Although he could have done it in his chamber, he had been coming to the library to read ever since and always met her in the same place. Although they didn't appoint themselves, they both had their assignments until midday and would turn up there to read immediately afterwards, sitting next to each other, exchanging thoughts in passing.
He was afraid that Aegon would see them one day, but fortunately he never ventured into the abyss of the library, few people went there and he felt reasonably safe.
Usually it was she who asked him questions and he was the one who answered her. He felt some sort of empowerment because of this, at last there was someone who appreciated his knowledge and rhetoric, who listened intently to his opinion.
"I would like to be like Rhaenys in the future." She said softly and he looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
"Rhaenys? What's interesting about her? Visenya could fight with a sword and she rode the largest dragon still alive in this world. If I had a choice, I would marry her." He said without thinking, recognising that it would be wonderful to have by his side a woman who could wield a sword perfectly, with a sharp tongue and temperament, who would be a born warrior like him.
He saw his niece raise an eyebrow in amusement, a sort of childlike joy on her face, her eyes shining.
"Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys." She said mockingly, as if immensely pleased that she could take the argument out of his hand. He pressed his lips together at her remark and shrugged his shoulders, returning to his reading.
He didn't care what men and women did at night − his mother had told him that he shouldn't bother with it for the time being, and he had decided that there was in fact no need to, until his father called on him one morning.
"− no −" He heard his mother's voice, leaning over the table where the tired King sat, looking at her as if half asleep. "− I do not agree, Viserys, it's not −"
She did not finish, hearing his footsteps and folded her arms in front of her, trying to calm herself, letting out a loud breath. His father nodded at him to come closer, which he did obediently, feeling his heart pounding hard.
His father had never yet called on him on any serious matter.
"I have just been discussing with your mother the importance of our family, of our kingdom remaining united. Although I have agreed that, according to tradition, your sister should marry your brother and not your nephew, I would like you to be the one to bring House Targaryen together anew, and that you should marry the daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the future." He said calmly, with each finished sentence tapping his fingers on the table top, as if to add some finality and certainty to his words that he was convinced this was the right thing to do.
"− this is ridiculous − Aemond should secure our kingdom with a marriage to the daughter of one of the lords who can benefit us −" His mother began impatiently, her husband sighed loudly, exhausted.
"And who should receive this honour? The Starks? The Arryns? The Baratheons? No choice would be good, for someone would always feel disadvantaged. Marriage within the family will not outrage anyone on the outside, and will only strengthen what has been strained." He said with conviction; the Queen swallowed hard, shaking her head, finally looking at him as if she was certain he abhorred the idea as much as she did.
"− Aemond, you don't have to agree −" She said in a trembling voice, and he swallowed hard, looking at the stone floor beneath his feet, feeling his heart pounding hard.
Bastard or not, the dragon's blood flowed in her, as it did in him. She didn't despise or mistreat him. She knew what duty and obligation meant.
He reasoned that although he would have preferred to have a female warrior by his side, in fact the idea of marrying her did not reject him. He preferred her to the daughter of some common lord.
In his own way, he even liked her.
He grunted, feeling proud to rise to the occasion and fulfil his father's desire.
"If it is my King's wish, I will marry her, for the sake of the kingdom and our family." He said lowly, looking him straight in the eyes, standing upright, his hands folded in front of him.
He felt a tightening in his throat as his father smiled at him sincerely, for the first and last time in his life.
"So it's decided."
He didn't know how the message had been conveyed to his betrothed, however he could see by the look on her face as she ran into the library, all red with emotion, that someone had made her aware of what had happened and he felt a twist in his stomach.
He was afraid she would make it clear to him that she didn't want him, that she abhorred him, that she had no intention of marrying a man who didn't have a dragon of his own.
As she approached him however her eyes sparkled, she laughed as if she didn't believe it.
"Is it true?" She asked breathing loudly and he swallowed hard, nodding his head, looking at her with wide eyes.
"I'm so happy." She giggled sweetly, warmly, covering her mouth with her hand, as if someone had just given her a wonderful surprise.
He felt some kind of heat in his chest, an affection towards her, a gratitude for her faithfulness, for her devotion, for the fact that she respected him.
He was shocked to think that she would make a good wife.
Aegon laughed at him, not understanding where his lack of objection came from, how he could think that good had happened.
"She doesn't even have an arse or tits." He sneered and he clenched his jaw, wrinkling his brow, looking at him over his shoulder.
"Shut your mouth. Don't speak about her this way." He growled, feeling that her good name was now his as well, and that he had to protect her.
Aegon snorted, shaking his head, patting him on the back piteously.
"My little brother fell in love with Lady Strong?" He asked, forcing himself into a sweet, mocking tone as if he were speaking to a small child, which angered him even more. He slammed his head against his forehead, and he swore in pain, staggering backwards, catching the table, which fell over with him.
"You fucking bastard!" He shouted throwing himself at him, and they began to pound each other with their fists, wrestling with each other on the floor, until, hearing the commotion, a servant girl rushed into his chamber, trying to separate them.
His future wife visited him in his chamber that day, concerned that he had not appeared in the library, raising her eyebrows in simultaneous concern and amusement as she saw him holding an ice cube to his red cheek, a large bruise under his eye.
"What's happened?" She asked as she was accustomed to, without any pleasantries, approaching him sitting in a chair that was, however, too big and his legs did not reach the ground. He just rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders without answering.
He had no intention of revealing what had caused the fight − he wasn't going to appear to her as a prince on a white horse who would worship and adore her, as in all those poems she had surely read.
"Does it hurt a lot?" She asked further, and he shook his head. She sighed heavily, taking a single lemon cake from the pocket of her bottom gown, placing it in front of him.
"I know the Queen only allows you to eat sweets after your weekly visit to the Great Sept, but I stole one for you anyway. As a consolation." She said proudly, and he nodded, lifting his gaze to her, involuntarily feeling grateful.
She cared for him without wanting anything in return.
Since they were betrothed, she hadn't asked him for solitary walks, gifts, confessions of love or anything else a lady of her status might desire from the man she was to marry.
"Thank you." He replied calmly, recognising that he could give her at least that much.
She looked around his chamber and he realised that she was in it for the first time in her life. He stood up, setting the ice sack down in the bowl, walking over to his bookshelf, a gift to him from his mother.
"If you wish, I can lend you some. Just pick which one." He said softly, coming to the conclusion that he wanted to be kind to her, that he wanted her to have no regrets about him becoming her husband, to be proud of it.
She looked at him gratefully and took out a book written by the ancient philosopher, Areon, dissecting human dignity and duty. Something about her choice pleased him, the thought that she wanted to understand him.
She pressed the book to her heart and looked at him, her eyes seemed even bigger to him than usual, her beautiful long eyelashes, hair and plump lips shone in the summer light of the day.
He felt a pleasant tickle in his lower abdomen watching her without saying a word.
"Can I kiss you?" She asked so quietly that for a moment he thought he had overheard himself; he felt his whole body tense up, his pupils dilate in disbelief, his breathing quicken, his fingers involuntarily rubbing against each other in a subconscious nervous reflex.
Oh gods.
Should they be doing this?
Was this the right thing to do?
She was supposed to be his wife. From what he understood, husbands and wives did this, as a kind of union and intimacy.
He swallowed loudly, looking at her lips, thinking they looked pleasantly warm and soft; a shiver went through him at the thought that he could feel them in a moment if he wanted to.
He nodded his head.
He watched her vigilantly, involuntarily breathing through his mouth as she stepped closer to him; he was taller than her and leaned in slightly, wanting to make her task easier.
She surprised him when she suddenly lifted up on her tiptoes and her lips pressed against his in a warm, innocent kiss − he felt like his heart had stopped for a moment, the scent of vanilla filled his lungs, her skin delightfully moist and soft.
It felt so pleasant.
She pulled away from him immediately, all red as he was, breathing hard, as if it took a lot of effort and courage from her too, her eyes looked at him dreamy, as if she was waiting for his reaction, but he was unable to get anything out.
"One more time." It came out of him like a weak whisper, like a plea through which he felt the shame overpowering him.
For the first time, someone wanted him.
She smiled before rising on her toes again, this time placing a hand on his shoulders for balance − she pressed her fleshy, moist lips to his for a longer time and sighed softly as he touched her cheek, wonderfully soft and warm. She pulled away from him and closed her eyes feeling him stroke her skin with his thumb, he pressed his forehead against hers, feeling butterflies in his stomach.
"Will you come to me at night?"
He had nightmares most of the time at night − usually dreams in which he saw anew the pig that his brother and nephews had introduced to him as his dragon, humiliating him as no one had ever done before. He found that her presence calmed him and that perhaps if she slept in the same bed, he would finally get some rest.
He didn't think about the fact that it might have been at least inappropriate in the eyes of others when under the cover of night she snuck into his chamber, slipping under the thick furs beside him, snuggling up to him. In his mind she was already his wife, and wives slept with their husbands − unless it was his parents.
They lay that night looking at each other with their foreheads pressed together, stroking each other's cheeks, their wordless, innocent confession of affection and need for closeness.
"We are going to have seven children." He stated after some thought, as if he had decided that such a number would satisfy him. He wanted his family to be strong and broad, and also seven were gods, so it had symbolic meaning as well.
She blinked, as if something troubled her in his words, furrowing her brow.
"My mother gets very tired during childbirth and then can't get up for a few days. With the rest, how do we do it?" She asked uncertainly and he shrugged his shoulders.
He had never delved into the ins and outs of the pleasures of the flesh too much − Aegon had said that rapprochements with women were very pleasurable and, as he understood, that was why he couldn't pull away from them, to him, however, what he had was enough.
"We'll find out everything when we're older. Do not fret." He said with certainty, stroking her soft, plump cheek with his thumb and she cheered up, he saw the sparkle in her gaze before her lips stole a soft, warm kiss from him again.
He smiled at the thought that he felt that in her eyes he was a man, the head of their future family.
There had been times when he had forgotten who she was, who her father was, her smile, her laugh, her eyes, the sweet kisses she bestowed on him when they were alone made him think it didn't matter anymore.
Years later, he could not believe how wrong he was.
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Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes
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thefirsthogokage · 10 months
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NBC Universal is pulling shady shit. Please consider signing the petition and helping them picket at Universal:
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[Image ID: A tweet threat from Katherine DiSavino from July 15th that reads in it's entirety:
I’m a WGA strike captain & lot coordinator at NBC Universal. On the 2nd week of our strike, Universal began construction on the sidewalks we were picketing on. On day 74 of our strike, they have fenced in and demolished every sidewalk surrounding Gates 1, 2, 4, and 5. (1/3)
(this tweet includes an image that reads: NBC Universal risks Picket and Public Safety. Sign the petition to demand the construction of a pedestrian lane!)
It has made picketing at Universal a challenge, and our incredible Captains and picketers have risen to that challenge every day. But enough is enough. Universal MUST install what the City, County and LAPD Labor Relations have deemed necessary: a protected pedestrian lane. (2/3)
Please sign the petition. Please share it. And please come picket with us at Universal so we can continue to make it clear that the WGA will hold this picket line no matter what. (3/3)
Click this sentence to go to the Google docs petition.
You don’t have to be WGA to sign. If you like sidewalks and walking safely, consider signing!
[/End ID]
Tagging people I think might be willing to boost this under the cut:
Sorry if any of you have posted something about this already
@neil-gaiman @dduane @jeanjauthor @wilwheaton @flanaganfilm @fans4wga @friendshiptothemax @seananmcguire @writergeekrhw @reallyndacarter @teamlynda
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ryllen · 5 months
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maybe i do want us to kiss a little more
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sysig · 4 months
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Good skeles, like you lots (Patreon)
#Doodles#Handplates#UT#Sans#Papyrus#Gaster#Finally a set mostly featuring the brothers! Yay!#I love their dynamic so muuuuch and they're both so cuuuuuute ahhhhhhh <3 <3#I made that first one based on some half-remembered doodles from my Very First time around drawing UT characters - going way back!#I never posted any of them - I do actually have some studies from back then from various artists including Zarla haha ♪#And I think the original sketches for the pixel bouncies I made of them? :0 There's a lot of good stuff back there! Been a while tho lol#Really tho I've just kinda been on a big-eyes-and-swirly-cheeks kick lately haha ♪ They suit it so well! Especially Sans#Very fun to put down strong lines about ♫#Hugging <3 Always hugging <3 <3#I'm really pleased with their hands there actually haha - Papyrus pulling Sans in and Sans' hand on his ribs not pushing just a little space#They're so cute <3 Even some of my first doodles of them were them giving little donk-pecks on their cheek or forehead#Y'know - since they don't have lips lol#Also probably not a shock but I've pulled out my own colour cube(s) to play with out of inspiration lol#I am So out of practice lol#Sleeping on each other - it is The Classic! I love Papyrus' little paw thing with his plated hand while he sleeps haha#I personally really like the inverted Soul look on Monsters but in Handplates they're right side up! What do!#There must be a happy medium to strike somewhere hmmm#Just put them sideways and upset Everyone lol#A silly little set with Gaster of the two ''flying'' - does that activity actually have a name? :0 I don't know it#Gaster is not about to have them playing anything that could end up with 1-s falling though - not that he'll listen lol#''Because I told you to!'' Lol#And finally trying on clothes in their house! Papyrus is getting weird vibes off this shirt with how it ties in the back and hangs loosely#I'm pretty sure? I've been drawing him with his scar but it can hard to tell even looking at it myself lol#I'm not exactly careful with the delineation of his neck bones so the line can get lost#Needs a shirt that will compliment a scarf or a cape for sure
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nartothelar · 9 months
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warden...
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astrowarr · 5 months
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when was the last time scott was this alone?
was it 3rd life, after the death of his husband, gone far too early? or was it last life, as he looked away from the blood on his hands and up to the sky just in time to see the lightning flash? was it double life, when he stood face to face with his soulmate that wasn't really his? was it limited life, when the sword of his ally, his friend sank between his ribs?
no, this is something new entirely. because this is the first time scott has ever been betrayed. jimmy held his hand until scott covered his lifeless body with dirt and planted flowers on his grave. pearl was an ally with loyalty abound up until the free for all that killed her. cleo, his chosen soulmate, never once entertained the idea of turning her back to scott, not even as the world grew emptier, not even for the person her life was bound to. martyn- for all intents and purposes- fought by scott's side until the end of the world, until his mind and body fractured and he turned on his heel. but even then, that wasn't betrayal; not to scott, because he knows what it is to be the last one standing.
scott's allies don't choose to leave him; they die before they get the chance. and even after their deaths, there are new friends to lean on. grian stood by his side in that sweltering desert as their fingers knocked arrows and the sand exploded into glass. when cleo died in double life, he looked to pearl, and for the first time, he saw her. he died looking into her eyes, but his heart felt whole because finally, he understood her. alone in the world together, they mended what was broken.
gem has flipped this on its head. it's not that she was fickle from the start— no, not at all. but something burned under her skin from the start, a fire in her eyes that scott is far too familiar with. when she burst from her home with one red eye and blood matted in her hair and splattered along her skin, she was smiling with sharp teeth. the void trickled along her skin, inky and endless and so so cold. the funny part about it was that scott saw her and thought she looks like herself now.
in the wake of gem's fury, scott has nothing and no one. he won't be able to turn his back to her again, not after knowing the sheer terror of her eyes boring bloody, gaping holes into his skull. he spent days curled up in tiny caves and tucked away behind jagged cliffs. he was utterly alone, more alone than he's ever been. scott's allies are what make him scott— what is he if he stands in solitude, no warm faces to share food and diamonds snd secrets with?
what is scott now if not a shell?
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