#middle managers too

[lunapwrites]

I really genuinely hope that the tech industry is the next battlefront of the union wave.

I want every single person who actually touches the product and has any hand in its development and day to day maintenance to collectively walk out. I want them to scramble to try and replace you with AI (which will not work) or with cheap labor from whatever sources they can get (a patch job at best, and in my limited experience liable to cause some hilariously catastrophic failures.) I want them to feel the consequences of the unrealistic expectations they place on your shoulders. I want them to have to work the inhuman hours at the inhuman pace they force you to. I want to listen to their investors screaming as their money tree withers and burns in your wake. I want the world to tremble with the sudden and terrible realization that it cannot function without you.

And, you know, pay and benefits that reflect your skill set, experience, and value would be nice. Representation at the negotiating table. Hours that a human person can sustainably work. Just little things.

[sotc]

and he slayed 💅

[kwillow]

What kind of sound are Theo's... noises... intended to be? Snorts? Mouth sounds? Choking sounds? Stuffy nose sounds? I feel like I imagine them as a different thing every time I read them lol

Almost all of the above, really! Nasally grunts, snorts, whines, growls, guttural noises that sound like he's clearing his throat or choking on his own air... Theo makes all manner of noises. Not on purpose.

His "noises" are unconscious vocalizations most of the time. They're akin to vocal tics. The utterances are louder, more pronounced and more frequent the more stressed he is. It takes quite a bit of effort and discomfort to suppress his noises once he feels the urge brewing (if he even catches it in time, because most of the time he isn't even fully aware that he's doing it). He does his utmost to keep them choked down, but to his embarrassment, some grunts and gags always slip through.

Also, often his laugh can sound like "a noise" since it can be more of a gargling wheeze than a proper expression of mirth. His smoking habit hasn't helped the, er, phlegminess of its sound.

A counterpoint to his common stress-sounds is his habit of making quiet humming noises when he's feeling contented and relaxed. He only does it when in exceedingly good spirits - so as you might imagine, he hasn't had much cause to hum in many years.

[shaadowmilkcookie]

One of Shadow Milk’s many prop replicas of himself, left behind. Even though the eyes are forever staring straight into the distance… Oddly enough, you still feel like you’re being watched.

But surely, though, it won’t hurt to take it home and touch up the colours, right? :)

[crystalpallette]

frye inspires this sort of manic "i can do whatever i want" kinda will in people and god. I sure did do whatever I wanted here

[leroibobo]

khan al-umdan (caravanserai of the columns) in acre is one of palestine's best-preserved caravanserai, a type of inn historically common across asia, north africa, the caucuses, and southern europe, especially for travelers along trade routes like the silk road. it was built in 1785 on the order of ottoman governer ahmed pasha al-jazaar (who also has a mosque named for him nearby). the clock tower was added in 1906 to celebrate the silver jubilee of sultan abdul hamid II.

khan al-umdan served as more than just an inn - due to its proximity to acre's port, it also served as a spot for merchants to store and sell wares. it also gained importance to the baha'i faith, as it served as a site where baha'ulla (founder of the religion, he was imprisoned in acre later in life) received guests, and held a baha'i school. many palestinians found refuge inside the khan during the nakba, but were later forcibly expelled and evicted up to the 1980s.

it continues to be used for events today, but not as often as it used to be. despite being a popular tourist attraction and designated as a world heritage site, the caravanserai has also been facing further neglect due to gentrification and has also been in danger of being dispossesed for quite some time now.

[solcarow]

seafood trio portraits !

+ some alts. with spoilers !

[mumblesplash]

the hotguy comics contributor sona inserts still kill me because almost all of them are like ‘we added the team's writer as background extra #482’ and then i’m out here ‘hello kaze my beloved page illustrator slash era cover artist you are now my oc you have a criminal record and a head injury and you’re lowkey kind of an asshole but you come around at the start of act 3 in a heartwarming moment that hints at the slowly rekindling trust between our heroes and the city they’ve sworn to protect’

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I really hope that the second season of dead boy detectives allows Charles to properly unpack some of the baggage from his life because god he has a lot to process and work through without either being viscerally reminded of his trauma or putting himself in peril for the people he loves every fucking episode

[lullaebies]

Absolutely love your blog! If you're still taking Jaehaera/Aegon III requests what about one where they're in a secret relationship and are keeping it from their families but some shenanigans ensue (maybe they snuck out or something, or someone walked in on them kissing?) and they're somehow discovered? Also please overprotective father Aegon II because yes!

(Preferably an AU where the Dance happens later?)

The gathering in the room feels like a court of thorns, and Jaehaera feels as if she is going to hurl. Standing by her family with her grandmother looking at all around with hawk eyes, she feels if something is about to implode. Aegon had been taken from her side to his mother’s, Princess Rhaenyra. The heiress to the Throne had been most wroth, her, her husband, and her sons waking in the middle of the night for this… issue.

The worst of it all, Jaehaerys had been still laughing with damn near tears in his eyes while telling what he witnessed. She had begged him to leave it be, but then he and Aegon got into an altercation, and now… Ugh!

“So I enter her room because I left my book there—” he looks at Princess Rhaenyra and her family, particularly Aegon. “It was my room once too, do mind— and what do I see if not Aegon the Younger pining my sister against her own closet? The closet, grandmother. He didn’t have the mind to get her against a bed.”

She’s going to choke him.

“Oh, fuck off,” Aegon yells at her twin. “As if she hasn’t told me about you becoming a damn near Rosby stableboy in your visits there—”

Princess Rhaenyra pushes him back to his half-brothers, the lot of the brown haired boys holding their brother of nine and ten, yet only his father manages to stare him down. On the other hand, her father had been gritting his teeth beside her, while mother held onto Jaehaerys’s forearm in warning. Alicent gives her twin a pointed look.

“Mind your words, Jaehaerys,” she says, and turns to look at Rhaenyra and her family. “Prince Aegon, would you mind explaining how you came into my granddaughter's rooms?” 

Aegon licks his lips, and Jaehaera swallows. The story is longer than both of them would be able to admit. Despite the blood feud of the families, they had managed to talk last year at the ball for her and Jaehaerys five and tenth nameday. Even went on a joint ride with Morghul and Stormcloud, and before he left for Dragonstone, they decided on a day to meet again at the Kingswood. Such meetings repeated. They could only afford a day a moon, but those days were all so sweet. Did she do anything wrong? Yes, had been the objective answer, but she couldn’t care for it.

And here he is, in her very own home. They could hardly speak by their family, how could she not ask for a moment of privacy?

Rhaenyra rubs her temples. “Things like these happen at this age, Alicent,” she says. “You are stressing Jaehaera and Aegon both.”

Alicent furrows her brows. “Oh, these things do happen at this age, don’t they?” she asks, glaring. “We had known since we were her age how reputation matters in finding marriage. Your son is three years her elder and should know not to fiddle with a noble girl’s corset strings at the hour of the bat.”

Jaehaera feels some tears well up in her eyes. She doesn’t care for the embarrassment of being caught by now, but this makes her feel a fool. It had been nothing insidious, was it? They hadn’t even kissed until they celebrated the new year. She hadn’t lost her chastity, either. It is not just…

“He came into those rooms because your granddaughter let him in, Queen Alicent,” Prince Daemon says. “You should mind her doings before you lay judgement on my son’s.”

Jaehaera’s father had been standing quiet for the longest while, but with that he flares. “Men had been sent to the wall and got castrated for less, Uncle. If you don’t like my mother’s judgement, perhaps I should see to it?”

She holds onto her father’s arm. Please, let this stop. 

Daemon eyes him dangerously. “See to your own misgivings,” he says. “Your own son laughs at your daughter's.”

“Father, please,” Jaehaera says, when Aegon the Elder tries and almost manages to escape her grip. Her mother and brother come quickly beside them. Her mother stands in front of her father and puts a hand on his chest, warning, while Jaehaerys comes to Jaehaera’s side, a wroth smirk thrown at their grand-uncle’s way.

“I am laughing at my sister’s choices, grand uncle. At least if it had been Viserys, he has my aunt’s pretty face,” he says, backing their father for once. They often argue, but at times they work together, they prove they’re made of the same cloth. “The Seven had laughed at Aegon giving him yours.”

Daemon starts stepping towards them. “You think you are a jester, you defected—”

Prince Jacaerys comes against his step-father to stop him from coming forward, the same ways her mother has to stop her father from doing the same. Her grandmother and Princess Rhaenyra had come to yell at one another, and even the kingsguard had come to get involved. Jaehaera’s body is reduced to shaking, fat tears fully sliding down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly between gentle sobs, the sleeves of a dishevelled dress wiping against her face again and again to try and catch all the tears. Only the family beside her hears, so loud were the voices in the room. Her brother and father turn around, with similarly apprehensive faces. “Please, please stop..”

Behind them, from the other side of the room, Aegon sees her in her pathetic state too. She never was the emotional type, and she had oft hoped he liked it for he had been none too different. The unusual petrification on his face makes her blood feel as if it is running dry, and it feels all gone when the dark amethyst of his eyes fall into what she could only call resigned acceptance.

Aegon, her Aegon, comes by his mother and her grandmother, holding Princess Rhaenyra’s arm. “It was my fault. We didn’t mean to… I took it too far,” he finally says. “I won’t come by her any more, Queen Alicent.”

It hurts more than anything else he could’ve said.

Her mother pushes their father aside to cloak her in an embrace. Jaehaera can only tremble and sob against her mother’s robe.

The room grows silent as Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent agree to not tell The King or all else of the incident; so ill had been King Viserys, it had not been worth ailing her grandfather further with this issue when he had been on the brink of passing. 

All is to be forgotten, and cast away. Jaehaera’s puffy eyes lift from her mother’s shoulder, and catch his gaze one last time before he leaves. He tries to mouth something, but is pushed by his family out of the room.

Jaehaera sinks against her mother again. Even if she banishes the days in the green Kingswood from her thoughts, the scent of the campfire charring wood black will live in her dreams.

[svere-online]

A friendly family game of dodgeboon

[kittytiddycommittee]

I know you aren't supposed to judge based on appearance, but as I swipe through dating apps every bone in my body tells me that any man wearing polos recreationally cannot possibly be a sub.

[shadystranger]

the switch from worry for sam to appealing.. oh he knows how to fuck him up so perfectly tailored for him

[alteredsilicone]

Painting

The waxflowers were blooming, filling the halls with a gentle, pleasant smell. Loid was arranging dried flowers in a vase, he was most at peace when allowed to fuss with the small things. The afternoon sun was gently dancing in his hair, creating a radiant halo around his head. He was beautiful.

Before Loid had entered his life, Albrecht never saw the worth in fragrances or decorations or the art of flower arrangement. Perhaps it was yet another fault of his - frigid pragmatism. They both agreed on the merits of the written word, yet Loid also had an eye for the visual arts, thus Albrecht had allowed him to express himself in the Necralisk. Perhaps he liked seeing little reminders of Loid everywhere he went, a selfish indulgence Albrecht allowed himself.

"Loid." The moment his name escaped Albrecht's lips, Loid turned his head, dried rose still in hand.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever sat for a painting?"

Loid smiled, then uttered something under his breath. Not offended, but amused.

"I am not nearly important enough for anyone to desire to capture my likeness. Is this about the commission?"

Not quite. The true purpose of Albrecht's question was to stay hidden, for now.

"Yes," Albrecht decided to move the conversation along. "I cannot seem to decide which artist to pursue, perhaps you could help me with that. I was thinking of either Polonia or Timofei."

Hearing Polonia's name made Loid grimace, but he quickly composed himself and returned to finishing the flower arrangement, clearly a way for him to pretend to be mulling over the question, but Albrecht knew which choice would be made before a single word was said.

"Polonia is an excellent wildlife artist. The birds she paints are one of a kind and her use of color is creative, however..." then came the truth. "Her figures are gaudy, exaggerated and occasionally lean into the pornographic. I am afraid she might take some creative liberties while painting you and then we will end up with wasted money and a worthless painting."

Polonia was an eccentric, that much was true. An old family friend of the Entratis, Albrecht kept contact with her for only one purpose - she knew people in less than polite circles, which often proved valuable when procuring reagents for some of Albrecht's more alchemical experiments. She would not ask questions and never kept a paper trail. Unfortunately, she was also an Orokin eccentric and harbored a disdain for Loid, which he was not afraid of returning.

In the name of objectivity, however, Albrecht had to weigh all the options that were offered to him.

"Timofei is the better option. He is classically trained, he has painted portraits for the Galleria before," Loid pointed at a painting mounted on the wall. "He is reliable."

Albrecht turned to face the painting Loid had pointed at. Euleria's graduation portrait. Timofei excelled at accentuating his subjects in a way that was true to life, yet also had an air of uniqueness that couldn't be captured neither by photograph or hologram. His daughter, ever the critic, tormented the painter at every step of the process, yet he endured with reserved professionalism.

Truth be told, Albrecht had no interest in being painted, yet the Galleria demanded a painting of him. His great scientific achievements beckoned to be immortalized as oil on canvas, that's what the Archimedeans told him. At least he had Loid to help him with the headache of picking an artist.

"Call Timofei. Have him come as soon as possible."

"Of course."

---

The doors to the Sanctum rumbled as the Tenno returned from their mission. Another Netracell run, with Tagfer leading the squad. Loid was already used to the routine, his assistance was not needed so he could busy himself with other tasks.

"Loid!"

He turned his head. Artemis was floating nearby and holding something that looked like a folder.

"What is it?"

"Viri wanted you to have this. Knowing her, a bunch of sentimental junk."

Loid took the folder from the Wisp and looked over it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just a standard folder for keeping documents.

"Viri was so excited to show you this. I didn't even look inside, I don't care!" Artemis declared. Loid secretly appreciated her disinterest - he had heard his fair share of snappy comments and had no interest in finding out what creative epithets Artemis may conjure this time.

"Thank you, Artemis."

"Don't mention it," she floated off, joined her squad and the Tenno left for another round of Netracells.

Loid was curious, yet also scared. The Netracells were treasure troves of Albrecht's most personal possessions. Things that were so close and personal to him even Loid was not allowed to see inside.

It was just a folder, Loid told himself. It was light, so probably only a couple documents inside. Maybe another collection of poems Albrecht had written and then tossed away in self-critical shame.

The Tenno occasionally brought some of Albrecht's personal affects that they deemed Loid might find interest in. They were mostly related either to him, Euleria or literature. Nothing Loid didn't know about, just things he was surprised Albrecht bothered to keep.

Inside the folder was a single page. It was a sketch - of Loid. Drawn in the middle of a motion - he was reaching for something out of bounds of the canvas. Around his figure a mixture of flowers were hastily scribbled, Albrecht was not particularly good at natural objects. Yet Loid's face was lovingly rendered, a halo was carefully drawn around him. At the bottom of the page was what Loid assumed to be the title of the illustration - three times crossed out, four times rewritten. The fourth title simply said: Loid. Unlike the previous titles, it was carefully calligraphed. The final choice.

[cartoonsbyandie]

Happy Birthday to @thegreatsolaris, I have no idea if this either of these are the right dynamic but I did my best

[recurring-polynya]

I have always loved this shot from the Very First Captains' Meeting we see in Bleach. Between some combination of Early Kubo Art Rizz and the fact that he hadn't exactly nailed everyone's aesthetic yet, everyone looks sublimely scrungly.

Anyway, I was delighted to find that the anime gave us a companion shot for the lieutenants, a loving pan over These Sure Are Some Individuals.

Bonus! The manga panel this is based on doesn't have quite the same degree of charm (or the full roster) but they did Mike Wazowski my boy Iba, and I am incredibly charmed by this.