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#let's play with fire
tinyienzo · 1 year
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???
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chickenburgergmod · 3 months
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*plays buddy holly*
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p4nishers · 7 months
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crowley saying "if any harm comes to aziraphale because of this i will–" to gabriel is SO fucking special to me bc he was so clearly afraid of gabriel after the trial like just look at his reaction when he first sees him and him saying he spent a WHOLE NIGHT worrying that gabriel's gonna smite him like he's actually terrified and still after ALL THAT he still threatens gabriel and i just think threatening someone like THAT is actually so vulnerable bc he's making it abundantly clear that he cares for aziraphale and wants him safe and that aziraphale is HIS to protect and he WILL protect him no matter fucking what and i just i can't deal with how outright and upfront crowley was this season not only with aziraphale but with other people ABOUT aziraphale too like he was really not fucking around this season and he needed everyone to know aziraphale is his and made gabriel almost JUMP OUT OF A WINDOW for wanting to hurt aziraphale and the vulnerability of it all is making me go NUTS
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pnfc · 13 days
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they do such a nice job with perry's emoting in these, he gets to express so much
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ruebird · 1 year
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the father, the son & the left behind
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coucou-art · 1 year
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WIP
last one for today!
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lavenoon · 8 months
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He finds himself reaching for a different kind of flame, nowadays
hey hey @naffeclipse, would you like some bloodstain fool in this trying time?
og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic
also bonus Eclipse-less version under the cut
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cosmosnout · 8 months
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Started randomly drawing these two and now I’m actually kinda invested
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You know what is kind of odd. There have been a lot of fights over the years about Sansa, Arya, and sewing. And usually, Sansa is characterized as someone who loves it. What’s odd is that other Arya mentioning it, Sansa never does. Even while she’s trapped in King’s Landing there is never mention of her passing her days by sewing or something. There is nothing that says she embroidered with Margery & co. or with Myrcella. You would think it would get mentioned she does it in the Vale, but there isn’t any. 
I’m not saying she isn’t good at it or talented at it, but I’m not sure she likes it as much as the fandom or Arya thinks she does. And even then, Arya doesn’t say if Sansa really likes it, she just says Sansa is better than her at it.  In fact, Sansa seems a lot more interested in learning the high harp. 
The two people who talk about sewing the most are Cat and Arya. Cat because she does it so often and Arya because she can’t seem to do it all.  
“They met in the lower bailey of Riverrun. When Brandon saw that Petyr wore only helm and breastplate and mail, he took off most of his armor. Petyr had begged her for a favor he might wear, but she had turned him away. Her lord father promised her to Brandon Stark, and so it was to him that she gave her token, a pale blue handscarf she had embroidered with the leaping trout of Riverrun. As she pressed it into his hand, she pleaded with him. "He is only a foolish boy, but I have loved him like a brother. It would grieve me to see him die." And her betrothed looked at her with the cool grey eyes of a Stark and promised to spare the boy who loved her.” - Catelyn VII, AGoT
"You are most welcome here, Your Grace." Catelyn had been sewing, but she put the needle aside now. “ - Catelyn III, ASoS
“Hours later, she was sewing in her bedchamber when young Rollam Westerling came running with the summons to supper. Good, Catelyn thought, relieved. She had not been certain that her son would want her there, after their quarrel.” - Catelyn IV, ASoS
“ Arya knelt in the dirt among the scattered clothes. She found a heavy woolen cloak, a velvet skirt and a silk tunic and some smallclothes, a dress her mother had embroidered for her, a silver baby bracelet she might sell. Shoving the broken lid out of the way, she groped inside the chest for Needle.” - Arya IV, AGoT
Arya, meanwhile, will never let anyone forget the fact she is bad at sewing. Sansa confirms in the fight in Sansa III AGoT, but I think words spoke in anger only count for so much. 
“Arya's stitches were crooked again.” Is literally our first intro to Arya.
And we here about it again and again. Even while joining a death cult she doesn’t let it go. 
“Even sewing was more fun than tongues, she told herself, after a night when she had forgotten half the words she thought she knew, and pronounced the other half so badly that the waif had laughed at her. My sentences are as crooked as my stitches used to be. If the girl had not been so small and starved, Arya would have smashed her stupid face. Instead she gnawed her lip.” - Arya II, AFfC 
I think sewing is less of an Arya-Sansa problem and more of a Catelyn-Arya problem. 
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mayhemspreadingguy · 1 year
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Today I woke up and chose silliness!
(yes, the mood of my posts is all over the place but this is what you signed up for, it's literally in the name x'D)
This is another contribution to the silly rabbit au (by @cuubism ) featuring @magnusbae 's Dream in a hoodie.
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cerubean · 1 month
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hotel wip???
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bluesylveon2 · 6 months
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Malleus, one of the most powerful mages in Twisted Wonderland
Also Malleus:
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weee another fantasy au snippet <3 a little shorter than usual cause that's what the scene is <3 shorter <3
~
Something is wrong with Wally. 
It’s not serious, or at least Barnaby doesn’t think it is. If he didn’t pay such close attention to his buddy, he’d never know that anything was amiss at all - Wally has an excellent straight face. But not so excellent that Barnaby can’t read him.
There’s a different curve to his smile these days. It’s sort of pinched, sort of sad. It matches a look in his eyes that puts Barnaby on edge, if only because that deep, dark pensiveness is so wildly out of place on Wally’s soft face. 
It scares him. Something is off.
What is it?
Barnaby taps his claws on his middle as he stares at the tent roof, thin enough that firelight from outside bleeds through. Despite the late hour, his eyelids feel magicked open. The other side of the tent yawns empty, and that is precisely the source of Barnaby’s insomnia. 
Everyone is asleep except for two - and Barnaby is only awake because of one.
With a deep sigh through the nose, Barnaby sits up and clambers out of the tent. He shivers as he stands up and crosses his arms, rubbing at his fur. The night sky is clear, but the breeze cuts him through to the bone. It isn’t even winter yet, sheesh…
The campfire casts a fuzzy outline of red-orange around Wally. He doesn’t turn away from the embers as Barnaby shuffles behind him, and Barnaby doesn’t have to look to know that he’s staring directly into the low flames. He tweaks Wally’s raised hood as he passes, just to make sure Wally knows he isn’t alone anymore. He spaces out, sometimes. 
“Can’t sleep?” Barnaby asks as he takes the log next to Wally’s rock of choice. Wally just hums, and Barnaby frowns.
There’s that look again.
With how Wally is perched, his legs drawn up and arms folded on his knees, his smile is hidden. It’s unsettling. Barnaby scans Wally from the corner of his eye, taking in the tension in his shoulders and the nearly invisible pinch of his nonexistent brows. 
“Yeah, me neither,” Barnaby says. Another breeze, another shudder, and a quick glare at the stars. 
Should he press? The obvious answer is absolutely not, but… Barnaby isn’t sure how much of this - thisness he can take. He has no idea what to call it. A mood? It’s too serious to be considered a mood. All Barnaby knows is that when Wally is like this, something itches under his skin. 
Tonight would be a perfect opportunity to ask. Everyone else is fast asleep. Wally isn’t putting up the fronts he usually does. The knowledge that this Wally, the Wally all covered up and curled in on himself, is as vulnerable as anyone will never see - it makes Barnaby want to reach.
“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging his knee against Wally’s boot, “I’m starting to worry for the fire with how you’re glarin’ at the thing. What, did it emberass ya? Give ya the coal shoulder?”
Wally doesn't laugh, but his gaze softens. Barnaby curses himself.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with glarin' - I’m sure the fire deserves it,” Barnaby is quick to add. “But really… is everything alright, kid?”
“Yes,” Wally says, but it rings like an untruth. It's just something he’s saying because it’s what he always says. Everything is always fine with Wally. 
“You know you don’t gotta pretend with me. There’s somethin’ bothering you, I can tell.” Too far, too much, Barnaby is sure. He shouldn’t be so pushy.
But instead of clamming up, Wally’s eyes flicker down and away, guilty. The bloodhound in Barnaby perks up its ears. It’s all he can do not to point and shout AHA!, because that would assure that Wally would put up the same masks around him that he does with everything else. Vindication wars with his concern, as if he thought he might have been imagining the funks Wally has been slipping into.
Those too-long periods of silence that no one notices because Wally isn’t much of a talker. Moments of utter stillness that no one notices because Wally is always so stationary. The way he doesn’t drink in every new thing with a hunger like he usually does, as if Wally has been starving his whole life.
Those passing glances where his pupils seem too big, the blackness of them infinitely deep as if someone could fall into them. Maybe Wally is. Barnaby doesn’t want him to.
“You don’t gotta say a word,” Barnaby says, wishing the campfire log was just a smidge closer to the rock. “I just want ya to know that I see you, and I’m here. Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head ‘a yours, I’ll be right there for whatever you need. I got your back, Walls.”
Wally’s smile peeks over his arms for a moment - he always has liked being called pretty, or handsome, you name it. Barnaby preens over being able to coax him even the slightest bit out of the pit he’s slowly spiraling into. He’s winning big at the whole ‘best friend’ thing, Barnaby thinks - a complete natural.
For a long while, Barnaby doesn’t care to keep track, they sit in companionable silence. The fire cracks and pops when Barnaby adds a chunk of wood to it, coaxing it into a flame that actually takes the bite out of the breeze. Crickets chirp in the forest around them - something howls far away. 
The tension doesn’t leave Wally. In fact the longer they sit, the worse it gets. Barnaby keeps his mouth shut and eyes on the fire, the woods, the stars - anywhere except Wally. It’s the kind of tension that makes him suspect that Wally is gearing up to speak. Sometimes it feels like there’s a sinkhole of silence that opens up whenever Wally has something of his own to say. 
Reviving the fire was either a smart move, or a dumb one. It depends on how quickly Wally thinks of how to share. Without the brisk chill of night keeping Barnaby fresh-faced, sleep is finally starting to sink into him with the fire’s warmth. He briefly considers sneaking into Howdy and Sally’s tent to sneak an energy potion from Howdy’s pack. Pros, he’ll certainly be awake for Wally. Cons, he’ll be awake long past Wally’s spiel, Howdy will have a fit over missing an item, and Sally will have a bigger fit over Barnaby sneaking into her tent when he inevitably comes clean. Also, the potions don’t taste great. Or maybe he should fetch his pipe-
“I think. I don’t…”
For a second, Barnaby misses that Wally spoke at all. He double-takes when the half sentence registers, casting a quick look to Wally. Okay, no, don’t do that. Focus on the fire. Be casual - give him space. Barnaby nonchalantly pokes the coals with the fire stick.
Wally sighs - such a small sound that the crickets almost drown it out. But Barnaby has big ears, and they perk up. When does Wally ever sound frustrated? Curse him, but Barnaby finds it novel. Wally shifts on the rock, curling up impossibly tighter and turning his head away. Barnaby watches the back of his hood. 
“I don’t think I’m a good person,” Wally admits in the smallest, deadest voice Barnaby has ever heard. 
“What?” Barnaby says, or he means to. The air in his throat doesn’t quite form sound. He turns to Wally and clenches his paws on his knees to keep from reaching, floundering for words. 
How could he - why would he - who told him that he - 
“What do you mean?” Barnaby says, a disbelieving chuckle slipping out. “Wally, kid - you’re the best guy I know. You’re my best guy. Out of all the ways I could describe you, a bad person isn’t one of ‘em.”
Wally whips his head around, his eyes flashing - Barnaby tenses his entire body to keep from recoiling, though he can’t keep his eyes from widening.
For a second there he thought… he thought he saw… it must have been the firelight reflecting in Wally’s dark eyes.
Wally’s intense gaze pierces straight into Barnaby’s soul. He feels flayed raw and seen in a way that makes him want to run. But there’s something else. Something scared. Wally is searching for something, and Barnaby doesn’t know what or how to give it to him. His claws splinter bark.
As soon as it appeared, the look fades. Barnaby can take deep breaths again, and he lets go of the log. Wally blinks slowly and lets his sleepy gaze slide back to the fire. “I don’t know… maybe.”
Barnaby carefully lays a paw on Wally’s back. “You’re a good person, Wally. I don’t know who told you otherwise, but don’t listen to ‘em. You’re a fantastic friend, an even better best friend, and I gotta say - you make a pretty bang-up wizard. You’re the most.”
“I’m the most?” Wally murmurs, sounding surprised. He makes a sound that might be a laugh, might be a scoff. “No… you’re the most.”
“Tell ya what- we’re both the most.”
Wally casts him a sideways look, but doesn’t protest further. He hums.
“C’mon, lil’ wizard,” Barnaby says with a pat to his back, “let’s give the fire a break and turn in for the night.”
Just as he was starting to relax, Wally shies away from his touch, curling up like one of those shelled bugs Frank likes so much. “I think I’ll stay up a little longer.”
Barnaby swallows down the hurt and pulls away. “Alrighty. Don’t stay up too late - we got a day tomorrow.” 
“Ha. I know.”
With that, Barnaby stands. He gently squeezes Wally’s nape through the hood as he passes, and breathes a silent sigh of relief at how Wally leans into the touch.
All’s forgiven. Though he isn’t sure what for… whatever Barnaby said or did wrong, he’s just glad Wally doesn't mind.
Barnaby clambers into the tent and another shiver ripples through his fur. All the darn heat leeched out of it... He wraps himself in his thin, too-small blanket and shivers as hard as he can manage to generate some kind of warmth. It’ll heat up soon, he just has to wait. Wally usually casts a little sun spell on cold nights, but Barnaby can do without. Even if the tent gets comfortably warm, Barnaby isn’t sure if he’ll sleep.
Wally didn’t believe him. 
And Barnaby doesn’t know how to make him believe.
How could he think that he isn’t a good person? Barnaby meant what he said - Wally is the best person he knows. Wally is kind, patient, and just - just - him. There isn’t a single bad thing about him. Barnaby is so proud to call him his best friend. 
There has to be something that started this. A moment that made Wally doubt himself. Did someone say something? Not anyone in the Neighborhood, they all love Wally to pieces. He’s their wizard! He’s saved their lives and countless others, and their group simply wouldn’t be complete without him. He rounds them off with an artsy flourish.
So. There’s no reason that Wally should be feeling like this. But that look in his eyes… the guilt… there’s something else going on. Something deeper than just ‘I’m scared I’m a bad person.’ 
Something is wrong. 
Firelight flickers outside the tent, and Barnaby watches it until it goes dark.
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patrocles · 1 year
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LORDS OF WINTERFELL + THEIR BASTARD SIBING - Torrhen Stark & Brandon Snow
To say that Torrhen Stark's decision to bend the knee to Aegon I was an unpopular one was an understatment. The king had ruled for nearly twenty years by that point and had maintained a rare tenure of peace and agricultural prosperity before the arrival of the Targaryen invaders. But while the decision to give up his crown may have saved the lives of the people of the North, it cost him the respect of his sons, his lords, and his brother, Brandon Snow.
Brandon was nearly a decade younger than the king, only just older than Torrhen's sons. The two had been close all their lives, as Brandon was raised within the royal Stark family amicably. He was trained as a warrior, one of the finest archers of the land. And he was bold, too. But like the rest of the North, Brandon held on to his grudges. It would be many months before Brandon spoke to Torrhen again after bending the knee to Aegon, and many more years before he considered forgiving his elder brother.
Torrhen prevented Brandon from trying to kill the dragons of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. Before departing Winterfell, Brandon carved three arrows. He prayed over them, willed the power of the Old Gods to guide them true and slay the beasts. But Torrhen forbade him from using them. They argued and raged at each other before finally Brandon agreed to treat with Aegon, but left his bow behind. By the next morning, Torrhen handed his crown to the conqueror and Brandon spat at his feet.
It was not that Torrhen did not believe his brother could accomplish his mission, and for many years after it haunted him that perhaps he should have let the boy try. But he knew that Brandon would die a martyr in the attempt. Perhaps it as his selfishness to not see his brother, and eventually his sons to die pointless deaths. In the attempt to find a peace, he lost his brother's respect, and his sons struggled to even look at him. Brandon lived in his rage; anger at Torrhen's cowardice, anger at himself for listening to him. But Brandon could not fathom a king's responsability to his country, and did not bear the weight of it. Perhaps Torrhen was preventing his brother from an inevitable failure that which he would be blamed for. The bastard that could not kill a dragon. He gladly kept Brandon's resentment for the rest of his life, if meant saving him that.
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bugsnaxaudio · 5 months
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Yeah, I know I said I didn't usually post shitposts, but I figured this wasn't too bad for something I did in an afternoon yesterday, so I might as well get a little mileage out of it.
I know the audio editing of the voice track isn’t the greatest, but cut me a little slack. I haven't made these remixes since I was a wee homunculus, so I'm a little rusty. That said, this isn’t too shabby for something I edited on my phone, so that has to count for something, I guess.
Also, here’s a fun fact that’ll either ruin or make your day depending on your level of cynicism:
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minimutty · 6 months
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Half Dragons
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