#(for once an actual book quote)

[darkdragon768]

"Bill can't curse" this, "Steve can curse" that. May I bring to you: both can swear but Steve just prefers to come up with the most ridiculous alternatives just to annoy his brother.

Bonus:

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

And remember kids, the next time someone tells you, "George R. R. Martin wouldn't make Jon Snow the typical fantasy hero because that's cliche".....

Oh yes he would!

One viewer wants to know what character would you play (on the show)? GRRM: If I could magically clap my hands and become a different person, it would be cool to play Jon Snow who's much more of the classic hero. Everybody wants to be the classic hero! ABC Interview, 2014

GRRM: And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Meduza Interview, 2017

In fact he already has ☺️

[jakes3resin]

Modern Reincarnation AU Part 4 ✨️

Part 3

"John?"

Bucky storms past Jack into the townhouse. It's rude, but he'll apologize later. He doesn't know why he came here instead of his apartment. Old habits dying a hard drawn out death, maybe? He hadn't been thinking clearly. Hadn't been thinking at all really until he found himself waved through by his father's security detail.

"Oh, is that John?" He hears his father call out, dress shoes clicking against hardwood as he walks closer, but Bucky stomps up the stairs towards his room before he sees the man. His breaths come out in rushes as tears keep burning his eyes.

Shit, he thought he'd gotten those under control on the train.

Slamming his door, he slides down until he rests against the floor. He tosses his bag to the side wincing at the sound it makes. Hopefully his laptop survives. At some point he does actually have to do the work he went to the library to finish.

The library.

Buck and Curt.

They wouldn't, Bucky tells himself. They wouldn't. Curt was one of his best friends, and Buck loved him. They...

Fuck they were roommates! Why the hell were they talking about that shit in public? In the place Bucky considered his? Why even pretend? Why drag Bucky into this? Why?!

Bucky buries his face into his hands. His chest hitches as he tries not to sob. He doesn't want his father or Jack to worry about him. He doesn't want to talk this through.

He wants...

He wants Buck. He wants the other to pull him into his arms. To kiss him again as if today had never happened. There was something else about being with Buck, something he'd never felt with anyone else be they friend or lover. He made Bucky feel safe and wanted. Wanted not because of his family and connections but because he was himself.

Buck would know how to make him feel better.

He laughs quietly through his tears. Distantly, he can hear Jack briefing his father downstairs, the words faint but he hears his name and tears used together. His laughter is more sob than anything else. Of course, the one good thing he'd found would end up belonging to someone else. Story of his life.

✨️

There's too much work to do. At least that's the excuse Bucky gave himself for not confronting Buck and Curt immediately. There wasn't time for a confrontation and subsequent blowup of his life.

At least that's the lie he tells himself.

Bucky chews on the straw of his iced coffee as he skims yet another chapter. There's a pumpkin muffin in front of him that he swore would be his reward for getting through this fourty page reading. Midterms have come and gone, but Bucky still has deadlines to meet and research to complete. He can't sit in his room forever, as much as his father and Jack would sometimes prefer that. Better protection from whatever sent Bucky crying to his room as his father would argue. Better protection for his father's political career Jack would quip.

Speaking of protection, Bucky glanced to the side of the cafe towards his security detail. At least these guys attempted to blend in. His father must have briefed them on his track record with previous details. Bucky smirked around his straw. They'd be easy to lose come rush hour. A bit of fun even.

Bucky turned back to his reading, squinting down at the words.

"American airmen during World War II had a dismal life expectancy. It was not a matter of if an airman was going to be shot down but when. Once downed, airmen faced an uncertain 'reception committee,' as Second Lieutenant Kenneth C. Reimer noted in a drawing he made as a POW in Stalag Luft I in Barth, Germany... 'for every [ground combat] soldier killed in action, three or four others would be wounded; air combat was completely the opposite. For every man wounded, three were killed.'"

"Bucky?" A hand settles on his shoulder jolting him out of his reading.

Bucky kept his shoulders loose as he turns around. Buck stares down at him, a bright smile on his face that Bucky can't help but match despite his grief. It wasn't even something he could control. Buck smiled at him, so he smiled back. Bucky felt pitiful.

Buck's sky blue eyes are clear and happy as they dart across Bucky's face. There's no sign that he realizes Bucky overheard him yesterday.

Bucky lifts a hand to calm his detail, all alert now after Buck's friendly greeting. He sees the nearest agent settle back into their chair but knows none of them are relaxed. He darts a look up at Buck, peering at the other through his glasses to see if he'd noticed the disturbance.

Buck's gaze, as it always does, doesn't leave Bucky's face. Even when he rounds the table to sit down, his eyes are pinned on Bucky and nothing else.

"Sorry I couldn't meet up yesterday," Buck dumps his bag onto the chair next to him. Bucky's smile twitches. Buck sits down across from him. His legs tangle with Buck's own under the table, Buck's foot gently bumping his ankle.

"It's fine," Bucky chomps down on his straw. "How was your advisor meeting anyway?"

"It was good," Buck smiles at him, not even a hint of guilt on his face. "Real good."

Buck had told Bucky he was called to fill in a shift yesterday and that was why he supposedly hadn't been able to meet up. A lie Buck hadn't even bothered to remember. His advisor meetings were also always in the morning on Thursdays. Today was Tuesday.

Buck was still lying to him, and he wasn't even guilty about it.

✨️

"I went by your place yesterday. You weren't home." Buck swings their clasped hands through the air.

"Hmm?" Bucky glanced away from the traffic around them. His detail were staying a conspicuous ten feet back, but they were annoyingly keen when Buck offered to walk him back to his apartment.

Bucky would lose them another day.

Buck laughed, deep and airy. Bucky struggled not to lose himself in it. That was what made this so hard. Bucky still loved Buck, and Buck still acted like Bucky was his whole world and then some.

"Oh," Bucky finally processed what Buck had said. "No, I went to my dad's for the night."

"Really?" Buck squeezes his hand. Bucky hates how much comfort Buck's touch gives him.

Does Curt receive the same...? No Bucky doesn't let himself finish the thought.

"How was it?" Concern bleeds into Buck's voice. Bucky hates how genuine it sounds. He's starting to use that word more than any other. The longer he looks at Buck, the more he has to hate to save his heart.

"Fine," Bucky shrugged stepping further away as they came to a stoplight. "The usual."

"The Bucky I know wouldn't give such a short answer," Buck stepped closer eating up the space Bucky had put between them. "Not unless something happened yesterday. Come on, you okay?"

Bucky felt the words bubbling up his throat.

I saw you. I saw him. Why are you here staring at me like I'm the most important thing in the world when you have him? Why are you doing this to me? I love you. I love you so much it feels like my soul hurts. I hate you.

"Spent most of the night avoiding his staffers." Bucky lied. "Barely saw him, Jack either, yet he still asked me to move home at breakfast."

Buck nods, accepting his lies. Was that what they were now? Not a relationship, simply a lie? Bucky wasn't sure anymore. His heart thumped against his rib cage, anger and love in every other beat, but he wasn't sure which would win.

Buck had become his whole world in such a short amount of time. He thought the feeling was mutual, but yesterday showed just how stupid Bucky really was.

"How about this," Buck nudged his hip. "Why don't I stay over tonight? We'll binge a few movies, order something, and have night in. Then,"

Buck paused with a stupid grin that, despite himself, Bucky still found charming. Fuck, he was truly pathetic for this.

"I'll sweep you off your feet and take you to bed. How does that sound?"

"Won't Curt be expecting you?" The question pops out of him without meaning to. Gale furrows his brow, confusion growing in his eyes.

"Curt won't miss me tonight."

Sure, he won't, Bucky thinks bitterly.

✨️

"John," Jack's voice was a surprise. Especially considering it was his father's number calling him.

"You've gotten much better at your Jack impression," Bucky answers just to be annoying. "Does he know you impersonate him on official numbers?"

"You're not as funny as you believe."

"Ooh, you even have his disapproving tone down. I feel like he's in the room with us!" Bucky laughs. He peers around the corner. Buck's still where he left him, buried in his phone texting someone.

Bucky doesn't let himself think about who that person is.

"Your father wants to invite you to a dinner tomorrow. You can even bring that boy that walked you home. The one that hasn't left." Pages flip in the background as Jack talks. Probably governmental reports his father was supposed to read.

"You know you're not his chief of staff anymore?" Bucky leaned his hip against the counter. "You don't have to read reports or wrangle his kid to government dinners to help his image as a family man. You're his husband now, you're the family."

"You're my kid too by that logic, so wrangling you gets to stay on my resume." Bucky snorts out a laugh. "Besides, it's not a state dinner or anything. He just wants to see you."

Guilt gnaws at his heart. Buck pokes his head into the kitchen, phone no longer holding all of his attention.

"Fine," Bucky groans. "But if he brings up the apartment again, I'm walking out with my food on my plate even if it's the good plates."

"See you tomorrow at 7 then. Bring your boy." Jack hangs up without a goodbye.

✨️

It'll be me, and it'll be you, Buck.

Don't count on it.

Bucky jerks awake. His dream flashes through his head too fast for him to remember anything. Scenes superimpose over each other, words jumble together. At least this one wasn't a nightmare. Those always left him shakey and off balance all day.

His dreams have always been vivid, ever since he was a kid. The child psychologists he'd gone to had said it was normal and simply a sign of a well developed imagination.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair groaning when he glances towards his bedside clock. It's nearly an hour until he has to get up, but he knows that he won't be getting back to sleep before then.

Buck lays curled up next to him on the bed. Bucky reaches out to brush a hand through the other's hair. Buck twitches leaning into the feeling for half a second but doesn't stir beyond that.

Bucky sighs. Extricating himself from Buck's long limbs takes time. Somehow in the night, Buck had nearly fused them together as if even asleep the man refused to let him go. Arms layered over arms. Legs tangled together. It's an excellent distraction from his dreams but not from the problems of the waking world. If only he could forget those once he woke up like he did his dreams.

It's only when he's pouring water for his coffee that he realizes he recognizes the voice from his dream. A first for him.

It'd been Buck's.

✨️

(Not a confrontation I know, but it builds my AU lol)

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

assorted quotes from the introduction of Monstrous Children and Childish Monsters: Essays on Cinema’s Holy Terrors

[mjduncan]

If you like age-gap romances where the main characters' chemistry is OFF THE FREAKIN' CHARTS, you're not gonna want to miss this one! Have you pre-ordered your copy yet? You can grab one HERE!

[godofstupidsentences]

I would literally give everything to read Tradition Of Tragedy

[hanzajesthanza]

Pretty fucking place, isn't it?

i always think about the fact that while in beauclair, geralt's hanza lived in the palace lying that they were nobility, travelling incognito... what that meant for angoulême, whose only ask was to be made a countess... i like to think that she enjoyed her time in beauclair then...

spiritual successor to this gwent card edit

angoulême model 🏰 icewine mod

[autisticlee]

is it strange to genuinely not know what people think of you or how they feel about you? most people seem to just know if someone dislikes them so they can move on, or they just know when someone enjoys their company and is their friends. I have no way of knowing without people explicitly telling me, and people are horrible at doing that.

I don't know what my first impression gives. I don't know what vibes I have or what type of energy I have. I can't tell if someone hates me, doesn't care about me, or genuinely likes me. I can't tell what people's opinions on me are, if they think i'm nice, funny, rude, boring. I don't know if i'm bothering or annoying someone. I don't know if i'm upsetting someone or making them uncomfortable. I don't know if they are comfortable around me. I don't know if they enjoy my presence. I don't know if they are being fake nice and fake friends. I can't tell when someone loses interest in me. I cant tell if someone is trying to be a friend or is just being polite. I don't know if i'm easy to get along with, or difficult to be around. I don't know if my presence fills someome with joy or annoyance. to make it worse, each person thinks and feels different things. so i'll never figure out all of them.

if I try to think about what my presence and existence means to other people, i'm met with a massive blank hole. there's nothing there. I could never answer the questions "my friends/family would descove me as ___" because I genuinely don't know. I can only say what I think of me. unless someone explicitly told me with clear words, i'll never know. i'll usually know how I feel about another person at some point, and I try to tell them if I have the chance. but it's never reciprocated. they never tell me. so my presence in other people's lives is always a blank enigma I can't figure out.

any time i've tried talking about this, I just get a response like "stop worrying and caring about what other people think about you/just be yourself that's all that matters"

that's not the advice you think it is. that's more of what you'd say to someone who beats themselves up because they are worried about people disliking them in general and it fills them with anxiety to be disliked. they usually have low self esteem and think their worth lies in other people liking them. that's not the case here. hate me if you want, I don't care. i'd just rather know upfront before investing my time and energy in you.

this type of "caring what others think" is more about human connection, rather than acceptance....I wonder...is one reason I struggle to connect with people because I can't feel the presence of their feelings towards me? all I know is they are aware of my existing. thats it. try being in a group chat and not knowing if any of them actually like you or secretly hate you, not knowing if they are your friends or just being nice, and not knowing anything about how they feel about you, but you enjoy them very much. I try to share inner feelings with them, but theirs don't reach me. so I wonder, do mine even reach them? somewhere between us, the connection fails to reach. perhaps this is one of the problems i'm having with connecting to others.

if you don't know what people think or feel towards you, how can you connect with them? either you make assumptions, like "I think they hate me" and you could be wrong and push away someone that thinks you're friends, or think "i'm sure they enjoyed talking with me" and they later tell you they were just being nice but never wanted to talk to you becuass you're annoying. but assumptions are dangerous because those reasons, so the only other choice is to assign a blank slate to them and wait for them give you words to write on it. but if they don't use their words, they stay blank. you will never know if you are making a connection or it's staying superficial.

it's selfish to only go off your own feelings towards someone. you could really like someone, want to be friends, want to hang out and chat, but if they don't feel the same way, you just cause them problems and inconvenience. you bother them and ruin their time. i've noticed people often won't be direct about that and get even more upset because I missed it. I thought we shared a vibe or similar energy. but I might have mixed up my feelings with their vibes. if I like someone and enjoy them, not knowing how they feel about me can lead to me wasting my time and energy and also annoying that person unknowingly. it's bad for everyone.

if you can't assume the worse or even the best, you have to assume they feel neutral towards you until told otherwise. the problem is, most people go off of subtle hints, but if you can't see those, you get left out. while neither good nor bad, neutral feelings are still that of strangers. if you can't read people's thoughts and feelings on you, but it's rude to ask or people don't tell you the truth, you end up with many neutral people in your life. many strangers.

is this normal? do other people have an idea of what someone feels about them? or do you all "not care" what they think and go off of how you feel about them instead? is everyone making guesses, or do most people actually know without asking? how do you bond and feel connected if you aren't sure if someone enjoys your presence or if they actually loath it? I truly don't know....all I know is, not knowing makes me feel very disconnected from everyone.

I haven't gotten anyone else to talk about this or seen anyone else talk about it. so there's a good chance it's just a me thing. this type of topic usually gets reduced to "stop caring what people think" and goes nowhere beyond that. but!!! I think it's actually important to be able to know what people think or feel about you!!! at least to an extent. not obsessively caring to the point it becomes a mental disorder like social anxiety. but just enough to at least know if you are actually making a connection with them. just enough to know if you are able to reach them....

[catastrxblues]

so glad i decided to go to my school library when i started feeling sick during class this morning because otherwise i would never have found a rare copy of a room of one’s own by virginia woolf and borrowed it and have it at home with me right now ready to be continued oh my god

[steelthroat]

I was thinking about the fact that it's very funny that my parents had more problems with me being atheist than with me being queer.

Like:

"Sure hon, you have a weird perception of your gender and you could possibly bring home women, men or everything in-between... fine, love is love we will take you to the pride and stuff ^w^. BUT WHAT ABOUT JESUS CHRIST HUH?????"

And when I say they had 'more problems' I mean they were like "ow... so you won't come to church on Sundays with us anymore? At least the holidays?🥺"

like idk it's so funny to me

[caliburn-the-sword]

flf car chase scene except i have a shitty memory and i'm manipulating events specifically for the incorrect quote (which i also don't remember):

Orion: Someone's tailing us

Rosalind: Lose them

Orion, hitting the accelerator: Like airline baggage

[stargirlfeyre]

Did Sjm make Feyre’s story all about Rhys or did y’all just hyper-fixate on him? I truly just feel as if y’all became obsessed with this man and to cope with that y’all started whining and trying to blame Sjm for it. Rhys is a normal love interest. He’s a prominent character in the books as the main character’s s/o. It doesn’t really go beyond that, you people just latched onto the man and can’t focus on anything else when he’s on page😭.

[cultivating-wildflowers]

📒

[lolli-says-stuff]

Sarov: Come to think of it… You’ve always been nice to me.

Sarov : I mean, you listen to all my problems-

Alex : No, Alexei I just simply stand here, handcuffed, while you talk, there’s a big difference.

[hikingofthenoldor]

I thought about adding monographs and collections of essays that I read (almost) front to back for university to my Goodreads, so that I may feel better about my reading challenge progress because I have been reading a lot just not purely for leisure, but of course they are not in the Goodreads database yet and I don't feel like going through the effort of adding them myself. Guess I'll continue to look like an illiterate loser.

[darcyolsson]

I really truly mentally blocked out so much of city of ashes I think. and I now know why. someone get me out of here