① Poem Analysis: Shae Paw

Friday, July 02, 2021 2:30:38 AM

Poem Analysis: Shae Paw

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This is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams - Poem Analysis

Sansa gave him a look like she was worried for him, but he let her know that this was usual Varys. Varys is throwing a fit. Could we ask the truck owner to take a couple of pictures of us pretending to eat to placate my agent, who will then dispatch them to whom it may absolutely not concern? She looked so tired, and gently, he offered his shoulder for her to put her head on. She did, carefully, the said. I am truly hoping to have another part up by Wednesday ish. Your words would just be cherry on top!

The makeup artist was chitchatting as she took care of her, but Sansa could only offer a gentle smile, for she had so much trouble focusing. It had been one week since she had enjoyed time with Tyrion in Coney Island. She had gotten back home that day, and sent him a text message, thanking him for listening to her stories. There had been a meeting the day after, but the two actors had not attended in person, only through call conference, as their agents wanted to do a first assessment of how things were going. Turned out, they were going good, as far as they were concerned. Their clients were in the press but there was no scandal involved.

They had only mentioned the public reaction to the story of Sansa and Tyrion spending time together at the Met Gala, and then Varys had given them some sort of primary feedback about the pictures that they had leaked to the press. Normally, they had planned this meeting in order for Tyrion and Sansa to see if they wanted to proceed further, but both had asked for a couple of extra days before answering. Sure, she loved spending time with the man, but it still was a ruse, and she was not sure how she wanted to play it, or if she wanted to play it. When their agents had understood that no definitive decision would be taken right then and there, they had left them alone.

Sansa had thought things through, and through again, even going as far as phoning Bran to ask him if deception remained called thus when you found a therapeutic use in it. Talking to Tyrion, it felt therapeutic. Nothing would heal the ache life had inflicted upon her or her siblings, but when she talked about it with him, or just talked nonsense, she did not feel as she thought she would. When she had agreed to give this thing a try, she had been persuaded that she would end up spending time with a douche bag only obsessed with how he came across, except that douche had never showed to any of their encounters.

Instead, she had met someone, someone real, someone true, a real person who hid behind a persona but was willing to let it go to make her feel at ease. Some time had been agreed upon, for each party to consider things, and one night, unable to sleep, Sansa had found herself itching to phone Tyrion, but had instead opted for a text message, in case he was sleeping. How she hated deception… Yet, what if it was the only way she got to interact with the man? Sure, Theon and Varys wanted to cast the story of a romance, or whatever, but she was not there, and she did not care, or it was just not what was keeping her up at night.

What if Tyrion was only hanging around for the publicity stunt? Would that change how she viewed him? Would that change the way she confided in him? Would she still do that? Did she need to get a shrink the answer being probably DUH given how late she was sending cryptic text messages? She just… Her mother would not have let any of this happen. Brienne would have told her not to go along with it if she had known. Sansa was struggling, both with the fact that she felt like she was playing tricks on her fans, but she was tired of fighting with Jon. For someone who understood and was on board with it, he was quite prickly lately.

She felt like she was disappointing him, desecrating the memory of their father too. What she had not expected though, was for a text to arrive a few minutes later, from Tyrion, saying:. You have more to lose than I do in this. Lead the way, I will follow. Nothing you could do or say will make me think less of you. I would not want you to be seen with me if I was not a selfish bastard.

So, lead the way, and be sure, that even if we never set anything up again, for paps or whatever, you will have one more number in your phonebook you can reach. Good night my Lady. He was not hurting her in any way, giving her complete feedom, letting her know that she could choose and that he trusted her judgment, and she could not remember the las time a man she was not related to had said anything of the sort. Oh wait, the answer was: never. This had brought a whole new set of questions, and ponderings… She had talked with Theon, alternating between him playing her brother and her agent, and she had tried to decide on what happened next.

Tyrion was waiting on the other side of New York for her to decide, and she did not want to lead him around. Theon, as she should have known, had been extremely understanding of her quandary. Brother and sister they were, but they shared secrets their siblings did not know about, and that they never wished for them to discover. Theon had not decided to be an agent instead of an actor on a whim, and Sansa was the only one privy to this story, having prompted her to trust him with her career. You call the shots. Perhaps, and unbeknownst to him, one person had been decisive in her thought process. One night, she was watching late night tv when her ex, Ramsay Bolton, had been featured.

He had been so smooth, and nice, and nauseating. She remembered how he used to treat her. And from out of nowhere, she had remembered how Tyrion had joked around with her and listened. She had texted the actor, who had been prompt to respond once again, and she had asked him if he would be willing to play the game a couple more weeks, to see where it got them. Both were in New York for promotion tours, and then were supposed to start shooting in studios in the Big Apple. He had sent her a message saying he was game if she was.

They did not know yet when or what they would do next, but she was not ready to call it off. The woman did not take it badly, saying she had been treated far worse by people she did not like as much as her. Sansa took a good look in the mirror and tried to think of what she was about to do. Theon had called her boring, and she was, she was fine with that. However, after her talks with Tyrion, she was realizing that she could have used her platform to do so much more than what she was doing. She adjusted the orange ribbon on her black top, making sure her hair did not fall on it, needing it to be visible. She got up from her chair and listened to the various assistant producers who led her to where she was supposed to make her grand entrance.

They reminded her of a few jokes Seth would be throwing her way, so that she could prepare a comeback, and told her to simply tap her foot three times on the floor if she did not feel comfortable at whatever point. Someone gave a cue, and she heard her name being announced and she walked onto the set, waving at the cheering audience. Seth Meyers came to meet her, and she let him lead her by the hand to the gigantic armchairs. They exchanged pleasantries, making the audience laugh with their banter. She liked him, he was always nice even if he liked to play tricks on guests who were willing to let him.

His eyes though kept on going to her top and the ribbon there, and she took advantage of a seemingly natural switch of subject to say, as she saw the producer gesture that they would be going to commercials in two minutes or so. Stop looking at my bosom! She showed it to the camera, as the audience held its breath, perhaps guessing this was beyond unscripted. I figured that if someone I trusted did not know that, the others probably did not, and I felt like I was being a terrible person. And then we can go on to having a normal interview? However, had he not passed from leukemia four years ago, my younger brother Rickon would have been twelve today.

I cannot bring him back, but I can say his name, say that I love him, and remind people that leukemia is not just a clever plotline to make award winning movies. The disease was just too strong. In the US, you currently have this sort of fake debate, where people pretend to want health care but argue about how to get there. If we had been raised in the US, my brother would still have been a countless victim of this terrible plague, but he would perhaps not even have been offered treatment or maybe we would not have gotten a diagnosis in time to get ready to say goodbye.

The band started playing a sad tune, and they went to commercials. On the other side of town, sitting on his couch, Tyrion dropped his potatoe chips bag, and almost hugged the bag of food since he could not hug Sansa. And then he called the number they flashed when she reappeared on screen after the commercials and made a donation of subsequent size. He could not be there for her, but he had liked being referred as a friend.

He had liked that she had thought about their discussions. He had loved that she had reached out to him instead of going through Varys. Sure, tomorrow, something would be planned, whatever it was, but for now, he would watch his lady on screen, showing people how it was done. Reach me at persephone-prosepine on tumblr if you feel like it. Also, I think I need someone to help me sort out some part of the plots, so if there are any who would sapre a moment She looked so good, so perfect, as always. He wondered if she ever wore jeans, she would be amazing in a pair, but he could not begrudge the little black dress she was wearing with its long sleeves that gave her a classy yet witchy appearance.

He checked for pizza sauce on his hoodie and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none. There might be some on the t-shirt underneath, but he just had to keep his clothes on, and she would never know. This is of course my client, Tyrion Lannister. Please, all, let me introduce Debra Fulron, the coordinator of donations for the Leukemia Research Foundation. I truly believe you made a mistake last night when you announced your donation. The actress looked at him, gaping, and he figured that if he was going to get wet, he might as well go swimming. She handed him the check and he looked at it, thinking about how much he had meant it, how much he had wanted to do it, and how he did not regret a single thing.

He had forgotten to say it was not about impressing Sansa. He hoped she knew better. Then again, how could she? I will make a donation, the amount I just promised, if you make me a promise in exchange. We all know that is not how fate works. So call hospitals, find people in need of a secret donation, to help them cope. Theon had gotten close to Sansa, and was all but holding her in his arms. There were tears on her face. Do you want it named after yourself? At which point he found himself surrounded by red hair and warm arms around him. What he had not anticipated was for Theon to start hugging him too, and that was unsettling, until he remembered they had both lost their siblings to the disease. You told me to sell the ranch, but I thought you might change your mind at a later date.

I have money. This is not about impressing miss Stark and her agent. I was not loved as a child, and I had no disease apart from being a dwarf. Sansa hugged him again, and this time Theon took a step back, trying to keep his emotions in check. He could see Varys would be yelling at him later on for upping his donation, but he did not care, not when there was such a lovely lady in his arm, who had trusted him with some serious topics. She wiped her tears, and he was suddenly hyper aware that she had been burying his face in his questionable clothes.

And this time, stick to the script, will you, you crazy kids? If Tyrion stayed a little close to Sansa, she never moved away. And as they were departing, she kissed his cheek, saying:. He had come and picked her up that morning, ready for their date that was not a date except if you were a pap, and truth be told, he had not expected to be filled with such delight in being in her presence again. She was dangerously addictive, and he knew he was a sucker for addiction. She was wearing black trousers and a green blouse, behind her coat.

He had made an effort and found some clothes which had been in the laundry machine at some point. Sansa was humming lightly, and he did not want to stop her from doing so. Though the weather was cold, the sun was out, and it felt nice to be outside. They walked for a couple of minutes in silence, as he looked for something to start a conversation, but suddenly, they were there. Except he let his ninny out when a redhaired tornado all but stormed the shop to come and pick Sansa in its arms.

Luckily, the two friends were too busy talking fast in a language he did not understand to notice his yelp. Please be nice to him. Except it was her friend who reacted and he ended up hiding behind Sansa who looked ready to fight. Then the big man started speaking in the same tongue as before, a tongue that had no place on Earth but apparently did. Sansa answered quickly before motioning to him, and she said.

Have you ever spoken Manx Gaelic? According to my brothers, it is to die for. He had been called far worse than little in the past. Pod, why are you setting the heater over there? How many customers do we have? The smell coming from those mugs was positively intoxicating. He watched how Sansa proceeded, but when he saw that there was no secret ritual involved, Tyrion brought his cup to his nose, breathed it in, and took a sip.

The alcohol was there but the Scot had been true to his word, though it did provide an excellent aftertaste. He almost did not realize that Sansa was watching for his reaction, almost dreading he would not like it. He liked that once again, they were planning for the future. A million things could happen one way or another, but making those plans, well, it made him feel warmer than the heater, especially in his chest area, where regular people had their heart. From the corner of their eyes, they both spotted the two photographs Varys had sent on their trail, and they pretended to talk while enjoying their coffee even though they were only talking gibberish.

When the men disappeared, after Tormund ran outside and threaten to have their head, the two actors were able to relax. There was a distance between them, and he did not like it one bit. He wondered where the real Sansa went when she was not with him. He said nothing, just happy to be let in on a semi secret of some sort once again. It felt like the distance was closing, and he liked it better that way. So many bad jokes he could have said, about the man needing some business classes or whatever, but he felt like this was not a stupid thing or a loss of revenue the man was suffering from. He could relate to that. They got up and made their way to the park. He spotted the swings, and prepared himself to feel awkward in so many ways, but Sansa said:.

He did not think twice and just did what she said. She grabbed a metal bar and started running lightly, activating the spinning before jumping right next to him. Her cheeks were rosy, and she looked delighted by the wind in her air. The whole apparatus was not going at great speed, but a light breeze kept it moving. But there was one in Oxford.

When all was good and we just did not know what was in store for us, I remember riding those things with all my siblings. For the longest time, I thought we had nothing in common. She shaved my hair one night while I was 8. I would make fun of her for being a tomboy. You can yell in her face all day long that she needs to act like a lady, she will flip you the bird, and then knee you where it hurts. It took me a long time to overcome my own insecurities I think to see that while she seemed to be at ease about who she was and what she was, there was a part of her, a small part of her, who did not mind hearing her older sister say that she should do whatever she wanted and screw what people think. It did not feel lady like, and I wanted to honor our family. Now, the real quest is about getting there… Do you mind if we skip talking about my family, just for today?

He did not feel pitied, not one bit, but he was not sure where this road would lead them, and he wanted her to know that he was there for everything she wished to discuss. Her hand stayed on top of his, and he liked it. The paperwork is signed, all is ready, but I expect a settlement when the producers back away from this movie. The director is going through one messy divorce and has been sleeping with everyone on his staff, male or female. The tabloids are loving it. That may make the charade a tad harder, as I will probably need to go back to LA to go through auditions again. The cast is good, solid, except for this one part. I think Tony cast her in this part because he could not find what he was searching for.

But you would fit the description. The part is that of a wide-eyed girl who is forced to grow up when….. He told her about the part, and the more he did, the more he felt like Sansa should get the part. Sansa listened to him, biting her lip as he explained basically the whole plot of his next gig, and she hung unto his every word. But do you really think that the director would be open to recasting that part? Hell yes, Tony knew him, and he was more than ready to say he was backing down from this project if Sansa did not at least get an audition. You just forgot to mention which room we were shopping for.

Comments are love. I hope to have another part ready soon, but I want to do it justice. I think I set the stakes maybe too high for myself lol. She made sure her cheeks were rosy, and her lips were glossy. She made sur she had her meter in her purse as well as a notebook to document her expedition. She had called Theon earlier, when Tyrion and she had parted, to ask him to enquire about the status of her next commitment. She had confided that she may want to audition for a movie that would start at the same time, and her brother had promised to look into things, see where they were at, and if she were to want to drop out, what it would mean for them. She was wearing a dress she liked but which was not promotion-worthy.

It was a little thing, red as blood which showcased her figure. She loved it but never wore it for actress business as she found it a bit too revealing and comfortable, two words that should be antithetical but really described the garment well. She had knee high boots on, and a light jacket. She put on her coat and closed the apartment door behind her as she made for the lift. She quickly found the car and was delighted to see that there was no one in sight, no paparazzi to bugger her. She climbed and the man welcomed her. They made chitchat as he drove her to their destination, and she liked his humor. He took them to the underground parking, and went with her to the lift, telling her Tyrion occupied the penthouse on the very top and that he would badge her in as the elevator required access clearance for people to be able to go to the last floor.

She was not sure what to expect, truth be told, but Bronn used his sesame, and soon after, they were standing in a corridor with only one door. She went in front of the door, the keys firmly in her hand, and wondered for the umpteenth time how things had evolved from a couple of fake dates to coming to his place to pick up a script and planning some redecorating. As she got no answer, as always, she all but gave up on trying to understand, and let herself in. During the day, the penthouse had to be very luminous, as it had ample windows everywhere, though she could tell they were some sort of tinted glass, to prevent annoying parasites to try and have a look in.

There was a table near the entrance and a bowl with various set of keys. She figured she should do as the Romans when in Rome, or as Tyrion when in his house, and thus left the set of keys in the bowl. It was warm inside but not overly so. She was able to get rid of her coat and hang it in the entrance, before she went on. The living room was lovely, she thought, with a couple of big couches, and a huge tv set. He played video games she noticed when she spotted the PS handle.

She was kind of itching to go see what he had in his gaming library, but she did not want to snoop. She would simply ask him at a later date, she figured. The kitchen was open onto the living room, behind a huge bar, with high stools. She noticed there was no special layout. Here and there, she could see on the contrary a few small stepladders. She wished she could believe they had told him from an early age that his condition was no handicap, since it could be solved with a few stools here and there, but from what she had gathered and researched on Internet, she had the distinct feeling he must have spent his childhood and then teenage years trying to fit in their world, as they probably never did wonder what they could do for him.

She did not know what he thought about that, and also had no idea how to work it into a conversation… Perhaps if they ended up pretending to sort of date for a decade or so, she would come up with a good way to ask him about that she thought, then chastised herself. What they had was temporary, and she should not plan for him to be there, always. There would be a time when this charade would have served its purpose, and he would be able to go back to his womanizing ways. Hello Sansa. I hope you had a nice trip over. This is the infamous script. Otherwise, the bedroom you want to see is the one on the left in the next corridor.

Mi case es su casa. Tara, or Cheers, as you Brits say! She smiled to herself as she grabbed the script. She could hardly wait to read it, already liking the way it looked, used but not abused, as if it had been read time and time again. Later on she would blame her curiosity for the fact that she went right when using the next corridor. It was huge, with several cupboards, more than she had at her place, making her slightly jealous. When she saw that he also had a laundry room, she could not help but picture how she would redecorate it and had a dressing room there, to free some space in the main bedroom, or simply to make more room for clothes.

She knew it was obviously not needed, but if he ever got in a relationship and shared his place with someone, that person would need some cupboard space too, and having a dressing room would be a fine compromise. She walked in the room, trailing her hand on the high-quality furniture. There was another TV there, but there was also a massive bookcase, and for some reason, it did not shock her at all. She remembered when he had tried implying she was a Darcy girl and she had countered about being more of a Rochester adept. The man knew his classics. He also had a very eclectic collection, on several subject, fiction and non-fiction, and she found herself caressing the back of a couple of books she wanted to read but had not found the time to buy.

Then, there was the bed. She barely remembered letting go of the script and setting it on the bed as she grabbed his pillow, bringing it to her nose. It smelled good. She could not pinpoint exactly what she liked about it, but she remembered being with Ramsay and how she hated the smell of his bedding. Still holding the pillow, she found herself walking to the adjoining bathroom, and she liked the huge bathtub. How did Tyrion like his mattress? Soft, hard, in between? Sure, the guest room was not meant for him, but there would be no point in buying furniture he would hate just for the sake of making the room pretty, right?

That was what the mattress was. It was better for your back even if the first few nights sometimes felt a bit painful. She looked and could not help but notice only one side looked slept in. Sure, the other one was tugged upon, as if someone had hogged the covers, but he was keeping that part of their deal, and was not having tarts in his bed. This was a great bed. She put her hands on her stomach, making sure her feet were off the bed, and thought it was lovely. From the corner of her eye, she saw the script she had come to pick up and grabbed it.

The best way to avoid temptation was to give in to it, Oscar Wilde would say, and who was she to doubt a literary genius? She bit her lower lips as she felt like she was pushing her luck and started reading just the first page. And then the second one. She would have been completely unable to say at which point she had removed her boots, but before she knew it, she was deep into the manuscript. The writing was excellent, totally pulled you in, but what she adored was what Tyrion had warned her about.

He had annotated the script with thoughts about how to play certain things, invented background for his characters and others, in order to get a precise idea of how he really pictured it. The part he had told her about had seduced her before she had read about it, but now that she had the material in her hands, it felt even more interesting. The story was that of a brooding writer, who had been keeping fans waiting for the release of the next installment in his saga, and the writer hired her character, a woman fresh from uni who wanted to make it in the edition world. She thought she was supposed to help him organize his worktable but discovered pretty soon that she would be his ghost writer as he seemed to have lost his edge.

The woman then tried to involve the writer in what was becoming their work, for he was supposed to read everything she came up with, but she had trouble getting through to him. It went perfectly with the main intrigue of the plot, which had the writer dealing with his demons, the ghost of his past and those he had created for himself by letting people put him on a pedestal and suddenly having vertigo and feeling like a fraud, like the few first successes were a fluke. It all came down to how his father used to treat him and degrade him any chance he got.

There is not a single word in there that should not be. Everything is so thought through… There so much to unpack, I know I have yet to read it a thousand more time to see all the layers. This is amazing! I do not want to sound bitter, but God, I wish I had been asked to audition, it would have been an honor. It is so good! When Varys gave it to me, I think I told him to call Tony to have my trial audition even though I was only a quarter in. And you have to jump on it. She sat back, and realized her hair was a complete mess. She tried to hide it, but nodded along, as she completely agreed with his analysis. You know how these things are.

Since I was doing press interviews, I did not have to care for my image, I only had to be witty, but that was becoming more and more difficult the umpteenth time I was asked a question. Will you be needing some too for the guest bedroom? When everything is your size, it acts like a mirror. You may stop noticing it I guess, but everything is reminding all the time of that thing that makes you different. I want none of that here.

He nodded, and she went for the guest bedroom after getting her boots from the main one. It was much more Spartan than his own. She took some measurements, saw that a king size bed would fit too, if used with assorted furniture, and that she could probably make the office part of the bedroom still an office, by rearranging the layup. She wrote it all down in her notebook and went back to the main living space. Tyrion was on the phone and she heard him say her name. She did not ask, though she made a small gesture to let him know she was there.

She left and went back to the bathroom to freshen up. One look at her watch let her know it was close to 2AM. I will be attending the second part of your audition, because Tony wants to see how we work in front of a camera, given the importance of the relationship between Ismelda and Richard for his growth. She is a model from Europe, nice I guess. I stopped seeing her what feels like a million years ago, but when I was reading the script, well this felt like an appropriate note. Later on, when Tyrion got ready for bed, he could not help but notice the new smell on his sheets. Plus, there was a smudge of what must have been glossy lipstick on his pillow. He did not care. He slept like a bear entering hibernation.

Please Read and review, as always! I should have more time now to bring up the pace of this piece, but you know I need my fix of reassurance Another chapter. I wanted to fit more in, but it would have been a behemoth. I figured people would like a few more updates in a shorter period of time instead When she had gotten home so late the night before, she had been unable to think about sleeping, and had agonized over what to wear for the reading. She had ended up choosing the cheapest clothes in her cupboards, not that their prices really mattered, but because they were the closest to what she figured someone fresh out of uni with student loans could afford.

In the so-called real world, there was this saying, if you want a job, act like you have it, and she figured she would give it a try. She wanted that part and would dress as if she had it. She had spent till the wee hours of morning reading the script and getting in touch with the character, its emotional journey, and had tried to figure out how she would convey it. She had not planned things following the roadmap he had set for himself, but she had used his tricks and unwilling tips to find a course to set for her character, if she ever got to actually call it hers.

She had gotten perhaps three hours of sleep, and that was a best case scenario estimate. In a way, it was fine, it fitted with her vision of Ismelda and what she would be looking like at certain points of the script. She had texted Theon the night before with the details for the reading, and he had insisted on coming with her. Bran, maybe, if he really considered things from a science perspective, but I fear it would send him back to all our previous traumas.

Arya, she would unplug me. She took his hand, feeling sad about the many trials they had suffered that had brought them to know all of this for a fact. He pressed her hand back, then put his head on her shoulder. She put one hand on the side of his face, to let him know she was there, and she was reeling to, feeling the same pain he did. Thankfully, his assistant had put stickers to let her know where to read, otherwise her brain would have started leaking out from her ears after a few pages.

Sansa Stark??? Geeze, why did they feel the need to put three question marks? Could this be the start of something unexpected? She rolled her eyes but grabbed the following magazine. In it was a very similar piece, which added something about Tyrion having only eyes for her and her for him. This made Sansa want to punch a wall. She went through a few more articles, then reached the first one with pictures, of them fake eating at Coney Island.

And witness? My arse. There were none. Who knew the actor could be such a gentleman? Tyrion has been alone for too long and his lifestyle has not been healthy. Perhaps finding love in the arms of a girl he can mold into his dream woman will bring him the happiness he has been lacking. The Oscar nominee deserves a fairy tale love story. What am I, Galatea, and he is Pygmalion? They trash the way he leads his life and only applaud when he does something that they consider proper. Fudge them. He can do whatever he wants. There were more piece about their dates at Coney Island, and each made her want to roll her eyes so much she feared they might get stuck in the back of her head.

Some articles were telling things from her perspective, others from his, and a few were just so clueless they barely seemed like they knew who they were writing about. All quoted unnamed sources and witnesses that had not been there, except for the Met perhaps, and it was plain ridiculous. He is a great actor, and such a great person. Think about what he did for Rickon…. Tags: cookieswirlc, cool, cookie, swirl, roblox, cookieswirlc roblox, cookie swirl c, games, cute, toys, boca, combo, review, coco, mackenzie turner roblox, boka, cookieswirl, adopt me roblox, cocomelon, gamer, cookies, youtuber, girl, gaming, boy, game, piggy, funneh, fan, kid.

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His Poem Analysis: Shae Paw with the foreign actress had never been about love. After she left the biz, they got married. A hint of Poem Analysis: Shae Paw smile graced her lips, and she was about to reply, Strengths And Weaknesses Of Recruitment Research Poem Analysis: Shae Paw cleared his throat and said:. He even outright rejects sex. He used Poem Analysis: Shae Paw practice his new techniques of painting which is Poem Analysis: Shae Paw.