and i got all the feels

me: okay i need to follow some new blogs, lets check this one out

[scrolls down 3 posts]:


me: 

the pact of ice and fire

The dragons are about to dance again, so another pact is to be made, to be sealed and last

It will bring the Dawn and set a fire to light away the Long Night’s darkness

No men can stop these two souls from meeting in a mist of love and hate

Theirs is the song of ice and fire,

 and to their hearts belongs the world’s fate

suntresses  asked:

okay, so! what are your thoughts on the concept where padmé goes after anakin on mustafar, armed with a knife? and what are your thoughts on the people who are aggressively AGAINST that concept?

SO. HERE ARE MY THOUGHTS ON THE BULLSHIT. as most of you know and if you don’t know then you’re probably very fucking new to my blog: that concept art is? my favorite piece of concept art of all time. that concept is the only good concept to come out of the prequels and lucas can kiss my rosy red asshole for denying me of this, but that’s beside the point. short answer: i love it. i think it’s the best characterization of padmé that the prequels might have given us, if they had given it to us, because padmé has never been one to take things lying down ( until ROTS but we all know lucas can’t consistently write female characters across three movies but that’s not the POINT ) , and because padmé feels this? intense level of responsibility when it comes to vader. 

my padmé, specifically, has always felt a level of shame and responsibility when it comes to anakin’s fall to the dark side. she believes she caused this, that it’s her fault, and she owes it to her husband, the man she loves, to put him down before he reaches that point of no return. you have to understand: going at anakin with a knife is not an act of anger, or of hatred. it’s an act of love. she does this because she loves him, because she knows, deep down, the anakin skywalker she fell in love with could not live with himself if he crosses this point of no return. it is her duty, as the woman who made him, to unmake him. 

and the concept art of the scene ( found HERE if you’ve never seen it ) is fucking stunning. iain mccaig does some of his best work when he’s drawing padmé, and honestly i think he’s one of the only people who worked on the crew for those movies who actively understood who she was as a character. i’ve mentioned before on old incarnations of this blog, but the costuming choice for that is just inspired. it’s the perfect callback to her handmaiden robes, and the idea of padmé beginning in anakin’s life as an angel cloaked in fire and ending it the same way, one time armed with a blanket and a kind word, another time armed with a dagger and a kiss, is just … so fucking important to me

so obviously i love the concept of it. now in regards to how i feel about people who don’t like it, honestly, a lot of headcanons i’m really ambivalent towards and things but like….to me, people who don’t like the idea of padmé going at anakin with a knife on mustafar just absolutely completely do not understand her character at all. as i said before: this is not an act of anger or hatred or some sort of irrational upset woman flying at her husband in a sobbing mess of fury. 

this is a woman who goes to mustafar with the intent of trying to talk her husband down from the ledge. this is a woman who goes to mustafar and realizes that there is no saving him; that anakin is already dead. this is a woman who will put down the monster who swallowed her husband whole if it’s the last thing she does, because she owes him that. 

she made him. now she must unmake him. 

DO NOT REBLOG THIS POST.

2

Matt insisted on putting the glow in the dark stars up. :)

Full list of references in Taylor’s LWYMMD music video (in order)
  • Nils Sjoberg gravestone - The pseudonym she used when ghostwriting TIWYCF with Calvin Harris
  • Bathtub full of gems - Referencing what Taylor said about her persona in Blank Space music video (“like she jets sets around the world, collecting men and she can get any of them but she’s so clingy that they leave and then she cries in her marble bathtub surrounded by pearls’”)
  • Single dollar in bathtub - Sexual assault lawsuit trial against David Mueller where she countersued for $1 and won 
  • Throne of snakes - Kimye/Famous phone call incident, aka “Taylor Swift is #Exposed as a snake” 
  • Et tu brute? - Reference to Shakespeare when Julius Caesar was betrayed and stabbed in the back by someone he thought a friend (Katy Perry & stealing dancers incident?)
  • Car crash scene - (“Driving a Maserati down on a dead end street”) 2014 Grammy’s when she was made fun of for thinking she won Album of the Year (aka Red should’ve deserved a Grammy)
  • Car crash outfit/look - Resemblance to Katy Perry; reference to her feud with Katy (plus, a possible dig at her having 0 grammy’s while taylor has 10)
  • Robbing a bank called “Stream Co” - Taylor’s battle with Spotify/streaming services, for which she was called “money hungry” and “greedy”
  • Army of mannequins scene - Criticism of her group of famous friends aka “girl squad” being a cult of all skinny, pretty white girls/models
  • I <3 TS Shirts of Male Dancers - Referencing Tom Hiddleston wearing a I <3 TS shirt; referencing the media mockery of her relationship with Tom Hiddleston


[END SCENE WITH 15 TAYLORS]

  • Her Surprise Face (“stop making that surprised face, it’s so annoying” “you can’t possibly be that surprised all the time” ) - Reference to people making fun of her for looking so surprised/shocked at award shows
  • “What’s with that bitch?” “DON’T CALL ME THAT” - Reference to Kanye’s “Famous”; how she was never told that he would refer to her as “bitch” in the song
  • “Oh, stop acting like you’re so nice, you are so fake” - Reference to criticism of Taylor being “fake” and not the friendly/nice/sweet girl she “poses” as
  • “Oh there she goes, playing the victim, again” - Reference to common criticism of Taylor always “playing the victim” 
  • “Getting receipts, gonna edit this later” - Reference to Kim K’s (clearly edited) recording of phone conversation between Taylor and Kanye 
  • “I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative” - Reference to Taylor’s response to Kim K’s recording 
Mothers’ Weekend

Hello there! Long time, no see (my bad I know) but, here: an Alicia Zimmermann-centric piece as she goes to Parents’ Weekend during Jack’s freshmen year. [focus on Alicia, Jack, and Shitty] 6k


Somewhere, deep in her heart, Alicia Zimmermann knows she is a bad mother.

It started out as a worry, as maybe it does for all new mothers, that she will be a bad mother. That she won’t know what to do with a baby or a toddler that one day she will accidentally drop him or forget to feed him or feed him something he is actually allergic to or maybe she’ll scar him emotionally somehow and she worried but she survived his childhood okay. And then, after he was five or six, she stopped worrying about it. She thought she was doing pretty good. Jack had hockey and loved hockey and, sure, they didn’t have deep emotional talks but she didn’t exactly have any basis of comparison. Television families told her she was doing okay. No teenage boy wanted to have deep talks with his mother. And, look, if Jack didn’t talk to her all that much as he turned 12 and then 13, at least he was still talking to his father. Mostly still about hockey but she… she thought that had counted. Hockey was like French, to her. Another language she could understand but couldn’t quite speak. But Bob could. He was on top of it. Jack was taken care of.

She loved Jack. That was never the problem. The problem was that her love wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter. It didn’t alert her to any of the facts and maybe it even blinded her– She loved her son and her son loved hockey and so she loved hockey too. She loved her son and then her son seemed to love a boy named Kent and they never talked about it but she let Kent come over all the time and she figured they would discuss it at some point. She just… assumed everything was okay. Even after he was diagnosed with the anxiety disorder and given pills. It was always… well, that was a little problem but it’s handled and under control and everything is okay now.

See. Bad mother.

A good mother would have known somehow.

A good mother would have pushed and prodded or sensed it without even having to be told.

A good mother would have paid attention to how hard Jack was on himself. A good mother would have made sure her son had interests outside of hockey. A good mother would have known that Jack’s long silences after losses weren’t normal. A good mother would have preached balance and fostered friendships with different types of people and stopped the fucking hockey.

She didn’t though. Stop the hockey. No, not Alicia Zimmermann. She encouraged it. She went to the games and cheered the loudest and she even loved it a little bit because she thought it brought him joy, like his father. She bought into the vision: Jack playing hockey like Bob, the Zimmermann legacy continued throughout the ages…

God, she even used to tease Jack about how it took his father three years to win a Cup and she was sure Jack could manage it faster than his old man.

A good mother wouldn’t have done that. So, see, she’s always been a bad mother. Even now, now that she’s almost lost him, now that she’s promised to do better, now that she’s finally read all the books and online articles about anxiety and pressure and the danger of sports and hockey culture… now she’s still just as bad. Just for different reasons.

Now she is a bad mother because it’s Saturday afternoon and he’s been at Samwell for almost three months and she does not feel like mothers are supposed to feel in this moment.

She glances around. At the sea of other mothers and fathers crammed onto Samwell’s campus for Parents’ Weekend. They are not nervous. They are excited. Happy. Enthusiastic. Overjoyed to see the teenager they had left just a couple months ago again. To her right is a father almost (but not quite) breaking into a run to give his son a hug. To her left, a mother has burst into tears. Happy tears.

And then there’s her. She’s not excited to see Jack. Well, no. No, it’s not that she’s not excited. She is. She is. (She is. She repeats it once more just to remind herself). She is just…

She is nervous too. More nervous than she is excited.

Keep reading

just an end-of-day doodle ‘cause apparently everyone wants this friendship to happen as much as I do

Louie is telling him which horses have the lowest odds to win- aka. which ones to bet on so they rake in the most cash when they win :Tb

4

this love is o u r s

say what u want about moira’s design (how young she looks compared to her canon age, how much cooler some of the earlier concepts looked, etc), but i for one am so grateful for how fuckin beautifully androgynous she is; like she’s relatively flat-chested, no insane hip-waist-bust ratio, sharp jawline, short hair, she even wore a fuckin tie in some of the scenes from her origin story. there were parts of that video where i wouldn’t have been able to distinguish gender if i hadn’t already known the character. i love it.

When the Mistress made me she was full of angry things, that’s why so am I.

She pulled red threads over skin too tight and she couldn’t turn me, so all the ugliness I was supposed to hide was out for all to see. Like little crisscrossing scars. But that’s alright.

She messed up my head a little bit, stitch, stitch stitching. She fixed it as much as she could, and in the process she found pause.

She looked at me, me, for the first time. And sighed.

She rubbed her eyes and let go of me almost completely, and I thought she would forget about me.

But she didn’t.

She put more gentle things in me this time. Not for the sake of the enemies of our Kingdom, but for mine. So I wouldn’t feel so alone.

Instead of nails she gave me a hawthorn berry for a heart, and soft, soft cotton.

And then she brushed her thumb across my cheek and clothed me.

“Why?” The others said.

“So he feels no cold.”

And then she gave me a sword, the only sword, and I felt special.

“Why?” The others asked.

“You never send a soldier to war unarmed.”

She pressed her lips against my forehead and her warm air filled my head. 

“A witch’s kiss is a blessed thing,” they said.

She tugged on the seams of my pepper filled legs and the rosemary in my chest swelled. Maybe the mint in my cheeks blushed, but just a little bit.

She gave me hematite so my will would be strong and shiny, and then she whispered it was my duty to look after the Junglegreen.

“Protect us all, my brave little soldier.” And before she left she turned and over her shoulder blew me a final kiss.

This is my mission!

There are no other soldiers. I’m the one and only. I protect the Junglegreen and the Mistress day and night. I march between the Pottedplants and am a diplomat with the Faepeople, I see who can visit the kingdom or not, depending if they’re good at heart.

When the Mistress made me she didn’t have to love me, but she did.

And so I love her back.

-A poppet and his witch, by Semiramis Magpie.