#in the north of course

[ladychlo]

They saw a gorgeous masc cis algerian woman and they couldn't handle the swag and the talent, so they decided to be transphobic in the most colonial way

[hellspawnmotel]

the greatest robot on earth

[grumpyghostdoodles]

Cant take those two anywhere

The kiddos go visit Clover at their new home! And meet Starlo! It instantly goes to shit!

[jadedresearcher]

New Zampanio Branch Dropped :)

http://farragofiction.com/ZampanioSimEastEastEast You know Zampanio? That creepy pasta game I'm obsessed with that probably doesn't exist but that's okay because we all keep making 'fan games' of it based on what breadcrumbs we can find? Filling in the holes with other fandoms and ocs and what not?

I made another fan branch of it!

This one is more recursive than normal (don't worry it's justified :) :) ;) ) but I have it in a p decent state before I need to go get ready for Lavinraca/Lavinraca!!! And of course, because it's to the East, you can luxuriate in the fact that it's actually a game!

It's more game than anything you've ever seen me create before! Isn't that exciting???

Don't you love it when the appearance of a thing matches the reality of a thing? Soooo much better than the North! Who even likes all those fakey fake illusions pretending to be food delivery sites or dating sites or games or a gender quiz or whatever? Though I WILL say. North really did have something going on by pretending to be Tumblr.

[lilybug-02]

me vibing to the absolute, most broad spectrum of music humanity can conjure

[pixieberry992]

you know when you don’t post things on tumblr

image id in alt text!

[the-physicality]

thinking this labor day about all the athletes in women's sports who didn't have a stable league, who were only making decent money from a spot on their national team, who had to fight to get even a fraction of what they deserve. who spent their prime without a club league or the infrastructure to propel the sport. who came of age after title 9 in the usa [forcing schools to fund women/girls’ sports], the ones who fought for cbas and are only seeing big change at the end of their careers or after their careers concluded. who didn't have the media attention before, but are now showing just how much they can sell out stadiums and arenas. the players who played year round because overseas teams paid athletes what they were worth. athletes who endured and reported harassment but the league never took appropriate action. athletes who never had the media attention or ability to monetize their talent but who had careers that were just as impressive as the stars of today. who did it without the help of the science, technology, and medicine we have today. who set records with less support and fewer games in a season, which will be broken by kids who have had personal trainers since high school. athletes who played great games that are no long available to view, their talent no longer archived and accessible for young or new fans. athletes who still don't have a league or are just getting one in 2024. athletes who took it upon themselves to create change for which they will never reap the full rewards.

[mspoodle1]

[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.

[panlight]

I know bring this up like once every six months but I will never understand how "Olympic Coven" became so commonly used for the Cullens' coven in fandom when they are never called that by anyone in the books, don't call themselves that, never called that in the movies, never called that in the Guide.

The name literally only exists in the Vampire Index in the back of Breaking Dawn. This should be a strange little easter egg we all forgot about.

How did it become so widespread in fandom when it's so obscure in the actual books (and not in the movies at all)? It seems like it was a one time idea of SM's that she abandoned, because it's not in the guide (almost all references to 'Olympic' in the guide refer to the Newtons' store and they are called the Cullen Coven in the guide) or Midnight Sun, but it lives on in fandom.

It is literally just because the wiki uses it? So anyone getting into the fandom for the first time and googling characters will see it and then uses it themselves? Does the Rule of Cool apply, because it brings up images of eternal gods and powerful athletes, even though it's really talking about a mountain range?

[uwhe-arts]

levada water course . . . | uwhe-arts

Levadas are the name of the artificial watercourses that were built in Portugal and Madeira (Portugal) to direct water from the wetter areas to the agricultural areas. In Madeira, water is channeled from the north and center of the island to the south. Most levadas only have a small incline. They skirt valleys and mountains, pass through tunnels and cross natural watercourses on aqueducts.

(source: wikipedia)

[pixiecactus]

i'm going to call this post book!gendrya for dummies (it's me i'm the dummy): i had always loved the parallel that gendrya share about being the third born child (we are five books in, and still to this moment we don't have another baratheon bastard introduced to us that's older than gendry, so the order for me is: mya, bella and gendry) and (if we go with the r+l=j theory, jon obviously is not ned's son... so we have robb, sansa and arya) but something that has never ocurred to me before, is that we obviously already know the plot point of "the seed is strong" and we have gendry directly telling ned how his mother used to have yellow/blond hair (this is my own headcanon, but i like to think that she had brown eyes as well) meaning that all children sired by robert baratheon shared his hair colour and eyes colour, so gendry in his colouring and looks does not resemble at all his mother and we know exactly the same thing about arya, how of all of the catelyn tully/stark's children, she's is the only one that has none of her mother's looks, she and jon had the stark look, long face and grey eyes, like her father (and jon's mother) and like all of the starks of old time (karstarks included), and meanwhile genetics in asoiaf had always been somehow really wonky if compared to how genetics work in real life, it always interested me this fact about arya, one could simply said that arya having stark's looks and colouring is to help the narrative of arya feeling like an outsider in her own family, just like jon, and to establish even more how deeply the jon/arya bond runs, even when she knows both of her parents, and it's a true-born daughter. so this post was me discovering another gendrya parallel shared between them, i don't think it's really important but hey, it's still there alright

[tev-the-random]

So the thing that gets me about Starlo — the thing that really gets me — is how much this guy hates himself.

It's not something you notice the first time you're playing, because he's so confident and enthusiastic. He'd almost be cool if he wasn't such a dork. But after replaying the game with the context of where he came from, — and I'll admit, after reading some very interesting, in-depth fanfics and analysis about him, I'll try to link them if I find them again — his character becomes a bit... blurred. How much of this is Starlo, and how much of it is North Star?

Because- because the whole point of his sheriff persona is that he gets to be someone else, isn't it? When he's out there rootin' and tootin', acting out his hero fantasies and trying to imitate the characters from the westerns he admires, he becomes someone much cooler than himself. North Star is everything Starlo wishes he was: the fearless leader, the cunning cowboy, the confident sheriff who saves lives and wrangles bandits and hangs out with humans. Not just some nobody farmer who could disappear in the corn field without anyone noticing, not the son who wastes his time on daydreams.

He craves praise so deeply. That's the big difference between Star and Papyrus, I think, because Papyrus is just so unapologetically himself, while Star... he starts spending more and more time with this mask of greatness he made himself. Because people like North Star. Not Starlo.

North Star is a real sheriff. Not Starlo.

North Star is the one who brings help and hope and fun to monsters. Not Starlo.

North Star is the one worthy of being appreciated. Not Starlo.

And like... he wants to be liked so badly. So much effort is put into making sure North Star is good enough that Starlo tends to assume people hate him. He assumes his parents hate his life choices (they don't; they're proud of him and know he cares), he assumes Clover will laugh at him when he shows his face to them (they don't; despite everything, it's still him), he assumes the reason he fell out with his friends is because he wasn't a good enough sheriff (he knows damn well it wasn't actually Clover's fault, he's not THAT stupid. But he's still desperately grasping at the last pieces of his shattered persona, so if he just works harder, if he does what a real sheriff does and captures this human, then everything will be alright, won't it?)

I really wish we could have gotten more insight on Starlo's relationships and personality before the whole Wild East thing consumed him. Ceroba and the Feisty Five say they miss the old Starlo, but we never really get to know who the old Starlo was. And I don't think he knows either.

Wake the hell up, Star. People started liking you before you were North Star. Go eat some corn and calm down.

Point is, the impostor syndrome goes hard and that's such a mood. He was supposed to be the cool and silly cowboy guy, what the fuck–

[grumpyghostdoodles]

The Almighty Sheriff!

Save a horse, ride a cowboy~

[harritudur]

hellcheer zombie-apocalypse AU

The clearing is quiet and there is a rabbit in the distance, the promise of a needed meal. He turns and she is towering above him, standing on a log. Then she smiles, wrinkles her nose, parts her lips and just for a second, the world is not broken.

[twobrokenwyngs]

I. I. I’m. I.

I’M GOIN TO MANCHESTER BAYBEEEEEE