#he is… fearsome��.

[esmeblaze]

[title card voice] arknights

[rochenn]

Dooku holds a drink so often in TCW you just gotta suspect he's a mild alcoholic. Not enough to slur his speech or to reek of it, but just the right amount to sand the edges off reality. Guy's favorite thing about diplomatic meetings is the aperitif. He has vast amounts of fancy booze at home, but since there's no one left to share it with, that daily glass or two is his only friend. It's cute in the way a depressed polar bear in a zoo might be cute

[nibbelraz]

Demon Shang Qinghua I love him and his frosty tears

[just-some-random-blogger]

aegon: *flies to rook's rest*

aemond:

[mirensiart]

Going with the theme of some links in the chain using animal based nicknames for the links under their mentorship (pup, cub) I raise warriors nicknaming wind guppy (like the small colorful fish) and wind absolutely hating it (lie)

[annasobsessions]

Yeahhh true love looks a little like this

[takiki16]

Vane is trying to subvert Billy in the cabin of the warship in Charlestown, and the fucker keeps rolling to seduce but what he doesn’t know is that even nat 20 masc seduction long hair and oiled chest and forearms are USELESS against an exasperated ace labor organizer.

[nerdy-autizt]

Bushroot(1991) & Bushroot(2017)

(Ik this trend is old but let me have fun w/ it too :'] )

Here's without the text-

A little something for the Bushroot fans / Darkwing Duck fans out there, hope y'all enjoy. :'>

(I'll probably draw him in my own style.. But only time will tell. We'll meet again soon as I disappear into the void. 🫡)

[nobaras-resonance]

Live a long life, okay?

[here-comes-the-moose]

Soooo…. How early do we think the Bad Batch were sent out into the war? Because it’s very sad to think about, and I’ve also seen this explored with some other clones as well (Tup and Dogma), but I also can’t erase the somewhat funny mental image of some high-ranking members of the GAR having this elite, special force team coming to help them on an impossible mission, the group succeeding, and when its time to finally meet and thank them it’s literally just some guys whose voices haven’t fully changed and haven’t even lost all the baby fat in their faces yet.

[leupagus]

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.

[skrunksthatwunk]

thinkin about how kuwabara's always like "oh puh-lease you guys don't scare me your punches are nothing compared to YUSUKE URAMESHI'S. URAMESHI beats me up all the time and that's how i got strong and URAMESHI is my rival and i still have to kick URAMESHI'S ass so i gotta win this fight and not croak so i can come back home to URAMESHI. to fight him ofc". like. what's all this my man? a simple "i've had worse" or "you guys are weak" would do. like half of the people he says this to are only vaguely aware of yusuke as a person so it's not even necessarily a dig they'll understand. but instead he's all ridiculous like this bc 1) every fight reminds him of yusuke (and also they never feel as epic or significant as the yusuke fights) 2) he needs to proclaim this unique connection he has with yusuke to the world, even back when it was just "guy who he pummels most often" and 3) he's gotta hype up how strong yusuke is bc he thinks the world of him. psh my BEST FRIEND AND RIVAL YUSUKE URAMESHI is stronger than you therefore you're inferior to me somehow. bc they're a packaged deal. they're a team. they're inseparable concepts. bc kuwabara doesn't know who he is without yusuke. anyway

[bonefall]

You could play with the dirty part of the canon description by having Slash and his people roll in mud to hide their scent.

Parts of the Code labelling using weapons/traps as dishonorable could have started as agreements made that Slash's people wouldn't keep using their old tactics, maybe forced on Thunder's Clan to keep them from becoming too powerful, if they DID fuse.

I'm more liable to just remove the "dirty" thing entirely honestly; I just think it's so shitty I'd like to nuke it from orbit, you get me? Every single time they want you to hate someone, they make them fat and/or stinky. I'd rather just put that kind of rhetoric in the mouths of cats like Clear Sky and The Wind Runner, a lie to demonize their enemies, not really based on truth.

I think I might take the trap stuff though; that actually fits in nicely with how ThunderClan's the only one that uses spears. I won't have it be code yet, though, that's going to come a lot later. First two commandments of the code are Borders + Mercy, followed by Law 3 when Riverstar dies in some decades.

Also gonna need a name for Slash's new group. Hey, maybe THESE guys can be called Warriors, actually. Warriors of the Forest, like what the first arc used to be called before it was renamed TPB.

[bietrofastimoff23]

it was 2024, and tb keep talking as if it was aegon at the coronation who ran to alicent to hide behind her back, when in reality it was her choice to come forward, shield her son with her body and cling to his arm to make sure that he would stay behind.

[wren-writes-things]

Today I present the pirate snird!

@kiwibirb1

[lucy-moderatz]