That second art was just an excuse to draw Amaya’s full outfit
My friend just said “no one cares about clexa”, so pls if you care for clexa just reblog or like this so that I can run in her face
Kidou: I have very high standards-
Endou walks in, tripping and falling face first on the floor: Ouch, hi guys.
Kidou: I want him.
Okay, so the question is:
Do you think togruta markings are purely genetic or partly genetic and partly influenced by the environment?
e.g. a stressful adolescence leads to more complex markings/breakage
This conversation was had in large part on discord with @atagotiak and @dracothulhu.
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Holy mother of God this is so sweet!!! Your art's awesome. This is freaking amazing, and I love it
I’m going back to school soon so I won’t have as much time to draw, but don’t worry I have so many enki doodles I havent posted in here hope ur not sick of me yet!!!!!!!!!
Quick reminder.
CANONICALLY, this is what the Clones look like.
So I don’t EVER wanna hear “the Bad Batch ARENT white washed” EVER AGAIN
BECAUSE THIS
IS NOT THE SAME SKIN TONE AS THIS
a/n: daemon x rhaenyra x harwin
posting this little snippet because well.....I felt like it...the rest forthcoming this week 🔥
“It’s Laena.” Fresh wails sounded from the floor, Laenor’s fetal body bobbing with his sobs. “She’s dead.”
“How?” Harwin’s voice was taut, ready to defend at a moment’s notice. Rhaenyra shook her head to calm him, let him breathe. She wasn’t sure when it had happened—when she had learned to read his moods like they were her own, and he learned to read hers in return. Sometime around Luke’s birth probably, when she almost succumbed to the melancholia in the months after the delivery. He stayed with her almost round the clock, coming through the passageway in her chambers after her ladies and guard had bid her goodnight. He held her and whispered that everything would be okay. Even though they risked everything for those moments of comfort, for the joy in their sons eyes as they played with Laenor, for the family that would always be stained with his Strong blood, his Strong coloring.
That was why she refused to allow him to return to Harrenhal weeks ago, defying his father and refusing his birthright. Let them talk, she had said, they will whether we're together or not. Abandoning his family to be the lord of a half-destroyed keep while his father kept the king's council was not in his true interest. So he left King's Landing with young Joffrey under his protection while Rhaenyra and the rest flew on dragonback. He was devoted to her, and she trusted him. More than she could say for anyone else in her life.
He reached out to touch her face, drawing her attention back to him and away from the ugly shadows that followed them both.
“Childbirth,” she could barely say it. Her worst fear had come to fruition, not for her, but for her cousin. Her kin in more ways than one.
Daemon’s wife.
Daemon’s child within her.
Daemon.
Where was he? Mourning? Raging? Blaming himself? Probably a mix of all three if memory served her. She hadn’t seen him in years. Shortly after her wedding, he jumped into marriage with Laena and they rode off on dragonback to Essos. Last she had heard they were shacking up with a lord in Pentos, their two girls with them. While she’d seen Laena a few times at High Tide over the years, Daemon had always stayed behind. Hiding from his brother. Hiding from his duty. Hiding from her and those moments they’d shared when she was just a girl. When she swore he was going to do anything in his power to keep her by his side.
But then he disappeared.
A cough echoed off the stone walls. Her page stood at the door, kicking his feet, trying not to look at Laenor’s still shaking form. Rhaenyra nodded at Harwin, knowing her wishes would be followed. He bowed and crossed the short distance to her husband, hauling him up by the shirtsleeves.
“Come, my lord, let us go find Ser Qarl and maybe observe the boys and their swordplay.” Harwin supported Laenor as they left, his loud hiccups and sniffles reverberating long after their departure.
Rhaenyra turned and smiled at her page, steeling herself for what was sure to be an omen for the coming days.
“Your highness, the Blood Wyrm approaches.”
for request, may I ask for something with the theme "devotion as violence?"
@achillics, vulnerability
Joan Tierney (x)
Richard Siken, Wishbone
Ada Limón, The Good Fight
José Olivarez, I Wake in a Field of Wolves with the Moon
Lady Gaga, Judas
@bipeds (x)
Tom Lehrer, The Masochism Tango
Yves Olade, When Rome Falls
Florence + The Machine, Kiss With a Fist
Schuyler Peck, Horoscope for the Heartbroken
Venetta Octavia, I Set It in Stone
@heavensghost, Dead Girls Don’t Lie
Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain
Dead Girl Walking, from Heathers: The Musical
Terrence Hayes, American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin
Richard Siken, Primer for the Small Weird Loves
Margaret Atwood, We are hard
Day 5 of Codyan week - Morning After (alt. art prompt)
Happy birthday @hoodedmiho and thank you so much for introducing me to this ship! <3