#I think it’s my true weakness

[happybird16]

Men with sturdy, broad shoulders!!!!! 😩

[doctorsiren]

I saw an interesting post a while back that said “Capcom made us [Miles and Diego/Godot] only have like two(?) interactions because they knew we would be unstoppable with a brother dynamic” and tbh it stuck with me bc it was intriguing.

So yeah that potential brotherhood, but that Godot/Diego AU I made (that I still need a name for)

Also I bet Gregory Edgeworth would have smelled like a bit like coffee, and so Diego just reminds Miles of that comforting presence 😭 (the von Karma estate was a tea household, so he didn’t smell much coffee after DL-6 and didn’t realize how much he missed it/reminded him of his father)

[suntails]

(mild gore)

fealty

[xanderscollection]

"Growing up is realising a (random ship) you loved is actually weird and bad"

Yeah? Is it? Great, I love it even more. The worse it is the Better.

[mayasaura]

Going into Alecto, I think it's important to expect that the series won't conclude with a clear lesson. Either about morality—what makes a good person, evil getting their just desserts, ect—or a thesis on decolonization. It's not that kind of story.

Deep down, this series is two drunk girls bearing their souls in a dark corner of the bar. An hours-long conversation that wheels wildly through pop culture, past trauma, theoretical physics, dreams and aspirations, global warming, hairstyling, friends, family, gender, personal insecurities, world history, favorite foods. It has a lot to say, and a lot of it profound, but it's not trying to teach anything. At the end of the night, the point was how fucking cool that girl was, and the potent electric potential for something lgbt to happen

[ouaw-facts-i-just-made-up]

The Krew works out together, usually honing a particular skill that they wish to work on (agility, weight lifting, defensive maneuvers, etc). Gideon is always extremely excited about it, and as the only one who's actually into fitness, he likes to hype up everyone especially when they beat their PB.

He'd never admit it but seeing Gideon happy is the reason Kremy actually gives a shit rather than phoning it in. The rest, while it's a bit of a struggle, do enjoy having a skill to get them out of a bind.

Hootsie gets put in a little coach outfit too, she's not helping really but isn't she cute???

[usercelestial]

thinking about crowley and "my lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral" and "knows everybody's disapproval, i should have worshipped her sooner" and "if the heavens ever did speak then she's the last true mouth piece" and "the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you" and "my lover's the sunlight" and "i was born sick but i love it" and "there is no sweeter innocence then our gentle sin"

[parasolcopyability]

still thinking about that stat chart....mhin fight back against the weak allegations omgg

[seaglassdinosaur]

It’s the fact that he didn’t have to be miserable.

All of his agonies about his weakness and monstrousness and lack of control was self-constructed, self-inflicted and he didn’t need to be miserable.

[mawrblaidddrwg]

Drawing inspired by a moment in my 7-Year-Gap fanfic Endeavor that can be read here. (I am actually working on Chapter 9!!)

Original sketch of this drawing can be found here.

[arkiwii]

very sad still see the saria/silence divorce headcanon still going around

have you ever tried to consider that they never dated before lone trail because it would be unrealistic with the timeline and the events and also because it would be overshadowing the actual truth of why they couldn't get along

[whumpypepsigal]

John Wick Chapter 4 (2023): “Will you take me home?”

[sweatandwoe]

Now that's been a year out, I'm gonna say my biggest BG3 hot take:

Default durge should've been a companion if you're playing Tav

[cyanbeetle]

Many many many young John thoughts

[ratatatastic]

"Day one, you immediately said you don't believe in the thought of a hangover, you don't. What is—from that point, day one when you got back to now as you close in on that opener—makes you feel that that's true?" "I think it's a perspective. Well, a couple of things that I think would be important: had we not tested—so we'll test these guys hard—had they not put the effort into testing hard that would've been a red flag for me. So we're there physically. The question will be is: How do you perceive the adversity of the year? And that's where it changes. So I'll give an example. The last two seasons in November we've gotten into—on a road game—into a Western Conference team that wasn't very good and didn't make playoffs, and we lost. Then if it happens and we're in there in November again this year and if we lose: it'll be the hangover. That will be everybody's perception. It'll be exactly the same as the last two years. So how we perceive our adversity, and then how we act on our adversity will be how we define our team." "At what point do you—if at all—say 'Okay, that was last year, that was great. Trust me, we'll always embrace it but this is this year and we can't mingle the two.' Or do you embrace it? Kind-of mingling the fact that 'Hey, you're the Champs!' and what you just experienced?" "These men have earned to enjoy some of the things that come along with becoming a Champion and the Ring Ceremony on Monday night will be a really big part of that. We want to be fully able to enjoy it, it's been earned. What we don't want to do is feel that what we earned last year will have anything to do with the next night when we open against Boston. The puck gets dropped, the game demands certain things no matter whether you won or you lost last year. There's a certain number of things that you have to do to expect to win and we're gonna to have to be prepared to do that." "Did the fact that you are the hunted more so than the hunter—and obviously you're hunting for another title—but everywhere you go it's like, 'Hey, the Champs are coming to town,' 'Hey, the Panthers—that's the team we got to beat, they're the Champs.'" "It's an interesting thing that you say that because there was—I was reading an article today about the Top 5 Forward groups in the National Hockey League and our guys aren't part of it. So we're still, I think, lurking that—there is an expectation and that's where maybe the danger of why people will say it's so difficult to repeat. I don't believe that. It's exactly the same level of hard as we like to say, to win. It's just that your expectation—feel you won last year so somehow this should be easier and it won't be." "You talked so much last year about finally getting that taste of that all year. So now obviously you love the game, it keeps you going, you love being around the team but how much did winning last year change you—if at all—as you enter this new year? Do you sense anything? Do you feel anything as a coach that burden or pressure or cloud—whatever you want to call it?" "It's a great question and I've been looking for it, I'm trying to monitor. The driver for that to me is these guys works so hard, and in their effort they deliver this prize and you get to be a part of it. They did all the work, I get to be a Stanley Cu—I get my name on the Cup. I don't want to be the weak link here so at the same time because I'm aware of that, I got to also be mindful that I'm not a Berserker every day so that nobody thinks I'm being casual. So I got a job to do, I want to be the guy that prepares just like them, they work hard all summer I want to make sure that I'm driving as hard as I can, and they know that I'm not being casual about this."

Chasing the Cup (WPLG Local 10) | 10.6.24 (x)

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.