#with them so much - as well as some other lessons

[agnusprophet]

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what kind of a man is he?

you can ask this about any male in your life.

1. he probably doesn't come off as exactly warm to people at first-glance. simple features. this person probably doesn't accessorize a lot and if he does, he prefers higher quality materials. type of guy to wear watches once he ages. i'm thinking facial hair. personality-wise, this person is caring but unless you're close to him, he will keep you at a distance. negative qualities are a bit egotistic, and can come off as blunt without regretting his actions. he is probably more much more masculine than feminine, which can lead to some aggression if it's not healthy. i don't think this person exercises a lot--if he does, think cardio. slim built. this person may have struggled with body image/eating disorders. he has trouble with vulnerability.

2. this is a very fiery person to the point where it can be seen as a negative aspect of them. they do not think before they speak--their bluntness is similar to pile 1's, but in this case they don't think before they speak. i think they have short-cropped hair, maybe a buzzcut, with a well-defined jawline. they have an attitude. if you're thinking of getting closer to this person, i highly do not recommend it unless you're someone who's fiery as well. they might not be as idealized as you think of them to be. at the very core of their actions lies the fact that they're afraid, deeply afraid of people leaving them and of being alone. they are a mercurial being.

3. this pile is calm and friendly. he probably gets along well with everyone, and doesn't hold prejudices towards others. he may be a little bit boastful, but he's grateful for everything he has. he may have struggled throughout his childhood, but he's made his struggles into lessons rather than letting them barricade him in the past. he's well-educated. might be on the chubbier side or is simply a foodie. he's very patient and is easily trusting, naive. balanced masculine and feminine. this pile tends to easily get into obsessions--if there is a use of drugs or anything of that sort, they can be detrimental. this person might be religious.

4. very quiet pile but if you show this man that you're genuinely interested in what he has to say, he'll speak. this pile may throw fits more easily. this pile is very light--might be physically light (ex. thin, pale skin, light eyes, blonde) or is a bright person. he's more history-oriented and art-oriented rather than mathematically oriented, for example. this pile is quick to stereotype others for fear of repeating past experiences. he may wear jeans a lot. this man may be similar to your father, so i'd beware of that if your relationship with your father is not so great. they are respectful but if they feel threatened, they can easily retreat back into a very mean state.

[doveywovy]

modern au where izuna is in a tragic accident and it puts him in a coma and tobirama is like sweet, a way to practice friendship. because tobirama has absolutely zero friends except his brother, who's been pissed at him for over a year. so- he needs the practice.

so every day he goes in to visit and he changes out the flowers at izunas bedside and fixes the sheets and updates him in what's been happening while he's in the coma. with all the tact he has, which is very little.

tobirama: hello izuna. class went well today. you would've liked the chemistry lesson. your cousin hikaku broke down crying behind the school because he misses you. your other cousin obito called me a slur when he noticed i saw this and then he chased me down and shoved my head into a toilet. the cafeteria was serving cold rice again at lunch. this concludes my report. get well soon.

what tobirama is unaware of is that this is the kind of coma that izuna is actually largely aware of whats happening around him, he just can't respond or move in any way. so he knows about tobiramas daily visits and updates and weird attempts at friendship. (tobirama's consistant reports on class lessons actually means when he wakes up, he doesn't need to do too much to catch up on work.)

so when izuna finally wakes up, he decides to do his own crazy move- to lie that they've always been friends, actually. best friends. joined at the hip practically. tobirama assumes this is some kind of brain damage situation but gleefully takes the opportunity to have a friend. izuna uses the justification of them being lifelong friends to violate a number of boundaries and behave in completely inappropriate ways.

madara also assumes this is some kind of brain damage consequence and considers tobirama an evil blight on his brother's life that must be vanquished. he keeps desperately trying to prove that they didn't get along before izuna's coma, but izuna just keeps making up loopholes and excuses to disprove his evidence.

eventually izuna tearfully confesses that madara is right, there's no physical proof of their lifelong friendship....because he himself destroyed it all! he and tobirama were/are actually boyfriends, see, but he was so worried that his brother would be homophobic about it that he never kept proof of their relationship! his close call with death has made him realize the importance of treasuring the time he has with tobirama, even if.... (loud sob) even if madara is being even MORE homophobic about this than he had once feared.....(Sob)

madara: oh. uh. i. uh

hashirama: madara.....how could you.....

[nmakii]

something there

— itoshi s. x beauty and the beast

entry one of “someday, my prince will come”

“be still!” you snarled at the magenta furred beast. “tch..!” sae scoffed. his large paw shuddered in your grasp as you slowly pulled out the thorn. “it wouldn’t hurt to be more gentle with it…” he groaned in pain. oh, god everything felt like agony.

“you wouldn’t be in pain if you hadn’t gone to save me. i’m not some damsel in distress.” you sarcastically pointed out, much to sae’s laughter. “uhuh, so you were fine defending yourself from that pack of wolves?”

you glare at him for his comment, and quickly rip the thorn out. “ow..! sh— uugh… what was that for..?” he pouted, his other paw quickly moving to massage the pained one. “that’s for being a sarcastic jerk. now go rest up, prince.” you teased.

sae scowled at the nickname. “don’t call me that.” he softly pushed at your waist. “eeehhh, right, right… just… rest already, sae.” you sigh, standing up. this place… wasn’t so bad now that you think about it. but you miss your father. how could you not?

sae nods, acknowledging your order. geez… one thing sae itoshi really didn’t mess with was his health. he’d put away his ego to follow a physician’s orders. “ah, and,” you started.

“…thanks for saving me. —i guess… i might’ve really died if you hadn’t save me.”

your eyes avoided his, bottom lip in a pout. you’re not really used to relying on other’s to save you. or, maybe it’s more so that you never needed to be saved. it’s not everyday that wolves show up in the province anyways.

“…yeah, sure. i was just… worried when i heard you decided to run away.” he admits, his voice faltering. “you wouldn’t believe how dangerous these woods have gotten in just a decade.”

“…do you just go around patrolling the woods like some guard?” you stifle a laugh. the beast can only deadpan at you. “do you think i just stay in my palace all day? i still need to exercise.” he scoffs.

“temper.” the candlestick known as aiku warns. “remember, be nice.” he smiles.

the next few days are… surprisingly pleasant. as sae recovers from his scars, you’ve consistently been tending to his wounds as well as making decent company. decent, since you’re the only company he’s had in a while.

“can you walk?” your arm supports his lower back as the two of you walk in the snow. “i—i’m fine. i’m not some grandmother with arthritis, i’m only 20.” he huffs, that once cold look in his eyes much more gentle.

“hah! only 20? you might as well be a grandpa!” you tease, much to sae’s dismay. “so what? you’re probably turning 20 in a couple months. who’s gonna be the old geezer now?” he raised an eyebrow. his breath visible in the air as a white cloud.

“…you. it’s always gonna be you, oldie.” you grinned, throwing a snowball suddenly in his direction.

the snow fell off his face, some of it melting and being absorbed into his magenta fur from his pure body heat.

sae frowned, unamused, as his large dug to gather the largest snowball he could manage to create. “i’m going to destroy you.” he muttered, aiming in your direction.

“sae—! don’t! i have so much to live for!” you laughed as you ran away from him, hiding behind a tree. “come back here… i’m gonna teach you a lesson..!” he ran, following your each and every move.

the two of you played as if two little children. the kingdom’s unfavored, blunt prince, and the oddball daughter of a kooky mechanic from a quaint village. who would have thought that they’d make such a dynamic duo?

some might even call them a power couple..?

“ah! just a few more days, and we’ll be human again!” the miniature grandfather’s clock cheered. “oh yeah? what makes you so sure, sendou?” aiku hummed, looking down at the sight in the courtyard.

“what makes me sure? why, the master hasn’t ever done this! she’s made him different!” he exasperatedly exclaimed, going on a tangent about how he’s going to woo the maid’s staff once again using the boyish charm he had lost.

aiku nodded, seeing the look in sae’s eyes. the same look the young master had when he had proclaimed to become the best king in the world as a child; the look of hope. however this time, it runs deeper. how sae lets you guide his paw as he relearns how to use a quill. it was something he was too prideful to even let his childhood tutors do.

“hmm… maybe you’re right, sendou. there might be something there that wasn’t there before.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can't be denied.

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I saw a photoshoot and lost my mind.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sigh and set the phone down, tilting your head back as you close your eyes. Exasperation, frustration, helplessness.

This is why you never had kids of your own. Your own teenage years were tough enough. Well, life has continued to shout that lesson in your face; things don’t always turn out how you expect. Or how you want. 

Let her make her mistakes, you tell yourself. No, no, you can be passive in your own life but you took on this responsibility. You can’t just wait and see how it turns out. Not like your mother did. She only got lucky you didn’t end up on a corner or like her. 

You take a deep breath and run your hands over your face. Your mother taught you many lessons without meaning too. Men, kids, all that domestic stuff is just a trap. You’re better off without having to figure out the mistakes of others.

That’s why you did this right? Because you want your sister to learn the same thing, to avoid the consequences of youth and short-sightedness. To escape that family curse that keeps you so cautious. 

You grab your jacket from the front door. She’s nineteen. Nineteen. An adult. You’re not her mother. No, but you won’t let it happen. Not to her. Not to that baby you spent your nights bottle-feeding as your mother spent her stipend at the bar or drove around with Robbie from down the street. 

It’s underhanded. Not what you should do. Not respectful at all but after the last time, you couldn’t let it go. You open the app on your phone. The dot that is your sister’s phone pings in the map. You zoom in and squint as you stand on the doormat. Really? 

You lock the front door and come down the front steps. The deep blue evening is starless as only the yellow street lights offer clarity. Oh, everything is clear. The apple is not falling very far. 

You drop your phone in the cup holder and turn the engine. The grumpy old Honda chugs to life and the stick cranks loudly as you put it in reverse. You don’t have much but you have the one thing you always craved; stability. You manage with what you have. 

You ease your foot off the pedal as you catch yourself speeding down the forty zone. You idle at the sign before turning onto the next street. You make a zigzag onto the main road. Your nape itches with impatience. How the hell did she get all the way out there, anyway? 

You grip the wheel and snarl at the windshield. You’re not a mother. You don’t have a maternal bone in your body. You were raised to be wary. By the time your sister came around, your mother wasn’t present enough to make much of an effort or impact. You suppose neglect can be just as lingering as resent. 

You keep one hand on the wheel as you chew your thumb. For all your attempts to avoid this fate, you find yourself where you didn’t want to be. Maybe not technically or even legally, but you’re stuck cleaning up this mess. 

You pull up to the bar at last. Take a breath. You are not an angry person. Not like your father. Yes, the surge comes from time to time but you control it. You repress it until it’s only a flicker in your stomach. 

You get out and lock your phone. You pocket your keys as you approach the door. Nearly wenty years since you’ve been in a bar, never of your own volition. You stare up at the marque. 

You were the same age as your sister then. The place was glowing and hazy. You entered to the clink of bottle and the buzz of the old juke box. Darts pounded into the bullseye and cues clacked on solids and stripes. Your mother was there hanging off a greasy man in flannel. She was too drunk to answer your question as you held her child on your hip. 

“Mom, where’s the money?” 

It fades away with the voice from your left. The man stands with arms crossed, “ma’am, you can go in. I don’t needa see ID.” 

You shake your head and make yourself enter. Your reluctance slows you along with the overwhelming wall of noise. Voices all around, music, glass meeting each other and tabletops, laughter, coughing, and snarling. The dim is lit only by the bulbs beneath the black shades, hanging from the ceiling. You squint to see through the glazed din. 

This isn’t your place. This is never what you would do for fun. Drinking, talking to strange men, spending what free time you have rotting away in this pit. 

You hear a familiar octave. Eva trills with laughter. Not that sardonic snort she gives you when you try to offer her some sense, no, that tinkling noise she uses when she wants something. It’s not a surprise, there aren’t too many reasons for a girl her age to be here. 

You find her along the bar. She sits sideways on a stool, one leg draped over the other. She’s everything you’re not old. Young, slim, and tall. You never grew much after eighth grade and you can’t do anything to stop time from its work. 

You cross the bar as the man next to her chortles and winks at her. His hand is on her stool, just by her hip. He looks about your age. You grit your teeth. 

You’re not brave or bold. You learned to survive by staying out of the way but you can’t just walk away from this. You know what older men want from women half their age. 

You clear your throat as you come up next to them. Eva ignores you as the man sends you a sneer, “can I help you?” 

You cross your arms. You’re not good at confrontation. Not with strangers and definitely not with men. 

“Eva,” you focus on your sister, “I’ve been waiting for you--” 

“Don’t pay attention to her,” she flutters her fingers. 

“Eva. You said you’d be home at eight--” 

“Ugh, you’re not my mother, okay? We both know where she is so just go away,” she snarls. She’s drunk. When she’s a few deep, she gets mean. 

“She’s grown,” the man insists. 

“She’s my sister, I’m talking to her,” you turn so your back is to him and you’re almost between them. “Eva, I got that job lined up for you--” 

“She said fuck off,” the man growls. You tune him out. 

“It’s good. You can take the year to build the reference then apply to the community college--” 

“You’re embarrassing me,” she hisses. 

“Would you get out of here?” The man pushes you so hard you stumble. You hit a table and gasp as the edge jams against your ribs. The people sat their grumble at you for spilling their drinks. 

“Johnny!” Eva cries out. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“You told her to get off,” he sneers. 

“Yeah, but you can’t just do that,” she whines. 

You steady yourself and apologise to the patrons at the table. You hug your middle and swallow down the pain. You swore you would never be pushed around by another man. 

You turn and march up to the creep. “You feel big picking on women? Huh? You feel like a man going after teenagers? Cause a woman your own age wouldn’t put up with you?” 

Eva tugs on your arm and says your name, “please, don’t. What are you doing?” 

“Do it again,” you goad. The words come out naturally.

You’re shocked by yourself but your reticence is dulled by that hereditary spark. That flame you’ve been tamping out for decades. Not like him. You are not him. 

“Pfft, don’t be a bitch. You already cockblocked me.” 

“No, you want to pick on me, pick on me.” You spit. 

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you here?” Eva snivels. 

‘Why are you here?’ Your mother drunkenly slurs. ‘I’m just having some funnnnnn.’ 

You stare at her. Eva wriggles and cries on your hip. You hush her, trying to comfort her. She’s hungry. You don’t have anything left in the can. 

‘Mom, that money was for her. Mom, where is it? Give it back.’ 

She chuckles and caresses the head of the man she sits on, “go talk to Chuck at the bar, he might give you a refund.’ 

Your name draws you out of the past. Eva shakes you as you snarl at the man. Your hands ball to fists. 

“There a problem?” A gravelly timbre undercuts your rage. 

Eva babbles again. 

“Walker,” footsteps stomp closer and Eva pulls you out of the way. 

You watch as a dark-haired man pulls the blond from atop the stool. He has him by the scruff, “what’d I tell you about fighting?” He glances at you then the foamy spill leaking onto the floor from the table as a server tries to sop it up. “You hitting women in my joint?” 

You quake with anger. This man thinks he’s a saviour. You don’t need him to defend you. In here, they’re all the same. 

“You better not come back,” the brunette growls and hurls the blond onto the floor. “This is the last time I’m tossing your ass out.” 

You watch the man’s shoulders strain the leather of his jacket. He’s broad, taller than you, like most, and about your age. He faces you. His hair is pushed back, the tails winging out behind his nape, his beard is thick and laced with silver, and he wears a golden medallion around his neck. His blue eyes scour you and Eva. 

“You alright?” He asks with a stitch in his forehead. 

“Just fine. Leaving,” you say as you twist your hand around to grab Eva’s arm instead. 

“I don’t put up with that in here. I saw that man up on your daughter and I shoulda stopped it earlier,” he intones. 

You scoff. 

“Look, you can have a drink on the house--” 

“I don’t drink,” you show your palm. “Excuse me.” 

You step around him and drag your sister with him. Under the ripple of anger, is fear. These men are dangerous. You forgot that at some point. Don’t ever forget that. You just wish Eva could see the same. 

You take her to the car as she stumbles in her heels. You open the passenger door and let her go. She gets in and you resist the urge to comment on her outfit. She can wear short skirts and crop tops, she’s an adult, but it’s too cold to not have a sweater. 

You go around and get in the driver seat. You sit there and stare at the wheel. You close your eyes and inhale. 

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Eva,” you snip and open your eyes. You brace the wheel as you look at her. “You saw what that man did. I’m a woman with no value to him, so when he loses interest, what do you think happens to you?” 

She mopes and looks at her lap. She twirls her thumbs round each other and sniffles. “I was only having fun.” 

“You can’t find someone your own age? Or maybe a hobby. Try the library,” you run your hands over your forehead. “I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to act like your mother, I want to be your sister. I want you to do better.” You slap your hands down on your legs. “You can make your decisions however you like but I just want you to think before you do.” 

“I’m sorry--” 

“You’re sorry. Again. You keep doing it,” you relent and slacken against the seat. “You’re not a kid. We both have to accept that.” 

You jam the keys in the ignition and turn. You sit up and peer around the lot. Your eyes snag on the figure standing in the glare of the marquee. That man in leather with the medallion. He watches calmly. 

You lean on the gas and steer around the lot. As you come closer to the bar, he waves with two fingers and winks. You frown and put your attention ahead of you. You just want to go home and go to bed. 

[v3nusxsky]

Showing you the ropes

*authors note~ so this one is living in my head rent free and I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t gonna post it but @dingdongthetail told me I should. Do you all want a series’s?*

Trigger warnings~ nothing?

Prompt ~ none? my current life?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

For the longest time you knew this job was your true calling. Starting your teacher training degree was everything you spent years working towards and now you were half way through the program. Your placement was the one and only Nevermore. You’d head so many things about Nevermore from your peers in the university of Jericho but nothing ever good. Or was then that moving two hours from your home town sounded like a bad idea. Of course they placed you in Nevermore knowing you don’t have much local knowledge yet. Days leading up to your time at Nevermore you spent wondering if what you had heard was true. How would this seven week block go?

The first thing you noted was you happened to have older students for your classes. The teachers seemed to be nice enough, possibly even afraid of you. The students seemed shocked at your appearance in their classrooms. Some challenged you instantly, others stuck to you like glue. It’s all pretty text book. Until it’s not.

Your first Friday there was when you realised how challenging this career is. Finding yourself in the headmistress’s office due to a students ability accidentally causing harm to another teacher and you being a witness to the scene. You’d already filled the paperwork out yet apparently you seemed to have botched the form. Would the principal be mad? Would you lose your teaching placement? What if you did something terribly wrong and she wanted to yell at you? The anxious thoughts continued to swirl round your mind as you waited for the striking woman to speak to you.

“Don’t look so nervous dear, you aren’t in any trouble” Larissa reassured gently, her eyes flickering up to watch you visibly relax. “Much better now darling let’s do this form together, I understand it’s your first time, so let me teach you what to do.” Stunned you just nodded along in understanding answering her questions as she asked them. “What’s your role here?” She murmured gently to you causing you to pause. “I uh just a placement teacher?” If you could’ve, you would’ve died of embarrassment on the spot as the look of pity she gave you. “No darling, you aren’t just anything you’re a teacher okay? You may be in training but you’re still teaching at my school.”

Perhaps it was embarrassment or maybe the fact she was practically a goddess in front of you, well known for her years of experience in the field but you cheeks heated up as a blush spread all over your cheeks as you ducked your head slightly. Praise and understanding from adults was always something you struggled to accept, the lack of it in your younger years meant you craved it all the more. The rest of the form was simple and she walked you through everything, gently explaining what you needed to know and what would happen next. “There. All finished. And you darling, if you ever need anything, a chat, some help with plans for lessons or even just to say hello, my door is always open for you darling” she mumbled as she stood up to lead you from the office. Perhaps this placement wouldn’t be bad at all especially with such a supportive headmistress

[hyperions-light]

15 and 8 for the de Riva prompt list pretty please?

Hello! Thanks so much! The de Riva asks are here! I have asks for 8, 2, 13, also!

Here’s 15! Will post 8 with the other ask!

CW: aftermath of torture, injury, imprisonment

15. Rook being captured by an enemy

It's been five days. No food— almost no water, but Leth can tell their captors don't want them dead, yet. They think Leth knows where whatever useless trinket and/or person they're looking for is (they're not sure which), but fortunately Viago is extremely paranoid, so they have no fucking clue.

Currently, they're chained to a wall (they'll take it over the ceiling) but they're expecting to be free shortly, based on the sounds of screaming and people in excruciating pain coming from the corridor.

They hear a door open, see the flickering light of a torch lick the walls. People in the adjoining cells call out, but the sharp, even footsteps do not slow.

The light brightens, and as it floods into Leth's cell its weilder revealed as Viago, his usual work uniform spattered with blood. He stops in front of the bars and turns to them, looking mildly annoyed.

They grin at him, split lip still bleeding sluggishly.

"What took you so long? I was expecting you days ago."

He scoffs, pulling a ring of keys from his belt and beginning to try each of them in the lock.

"You're lucky I came for you at all, after you made such a foolish error."

Leth raises an eyebrow.

"What, getting ambushed? Did I miss your lesson on precognition?"

The key turns in the lock; the iron door screeches as it opens. Viago wastes no time in starting on the chains.

"Evidently, you missed my repeated requests for you to be vigilant and cautious," he hisses, shoving a key into the into the right manacle.

Leth stifles a pained gasp.

"Can you… that wrist's broken. Can you angrily jostle the other arm, maybe?"

Viago says nothing, but switches sides and continues, more carefully.

"What else?" he says, voice clipped.

"Couple ribs. My nose. But I can walk."

Viago nods.

A scream is abruptly cut off in the other room.

"Did someone come with you?"

"Teia."

"Aw, how sweet," they say, smiling, "I hope you didn't inconvenience her."

"She insisted on being here."

Viago frees their left arm and carefully moves to the right.

"You didn't mention the fingernails."

"Well, they'll grow back. And anyway, it didn't hurt that much."

Viago pulls the cuff open, and Leth slowly lowers their arm.

Frowning, Viago yanks open one of the pockets on his leathers and shoves a vial into Leth's good hand.

"Drink."

They do, immediately.

"Huh," they say, as some of their surface wounds heal over, "that's a nice change. Can't remember the last time something you gave me was curative."

"Did they keep your effects?" Viago asks, heading out of the cell.

"Don't know," they answer, following. "Didn't seem like they were open to small talk."

Viago sighs.

Teia answers the question by striding down the hallway with Leth's gear draped over an arm.

"Did you find them?" she demands from the part of the hallway still bathed in darkness.

"He did!" Leth calls. "Hello, Lady Cantori!"

Teia gasps and runs up to them, taking their face in her hands.

"Poor Colombina! What did they do to you? Vi, did you give them—"

"Yes, Teia."

She hums, dismayed and sympathetic.

"I should have killed them more slowly. Let's go home— Vi has a healer waiting for you."

"Careful, Viago," Leth teases, as the three of them process out of the cells, "do too many things like that and people will think you like having me around, or something."

"Horror of horrors," he says, drily, shutting the door behind them.

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Learned my own lessons too late as well, for what it's worth. Acted much later than I should have. Could have prevented a great deal of death and suffering, long ago, but my dithering over a destiny I never expected to receive ended up setting it all off in the first place. With plenty of help from Stregobor and his magical cronies of the Council of Mages, of course. All believing in the Curse of the Black Sun... or making it a reality. Many innocents paid the price for what we both did and didn't do."

Eskel's deep, calm voice returned to the black haired noblewoman between bites and sips of his meal, looking back to the blazing fireplace and considering it all deeply. Memories and images returning to him, of Deidre and all the others. Of Sabrina. The thought of the crimson haired Sorceress troubling him, even now. However many years she had been dead for. He was certain it would always be that way, where Sabrina Glevissig was concerned. He had been unable to take revenge upon her... had avoided her for years... now he had to settle for Stregobor and perhaps Eltibald. Two mages he had never met... despite knowing their culpability. Maybe it was a blessing the Witcher wouldn't have to face her again, after Kaer Morhen and their other encounters over the years. Memory of Deidre's flashing blade, impacting in his gut and making several slashing passes over his face. Sabrina hovering over his bed afterwards in the keep, tending to his wounds. Deidre's face in the streets of Ban Gleán, when his silver sword had impaled her... the look of shock and betrayal writ large, the blood and rain running down her freely. His jaw tightened, and he pushed aside the bitter, evil memories and the conflicting emotions they drew. At last, with a grim chuckle and shrug of his silver spike covered shoulders, his viper gaze moved from the fire and back to Syanna's sapphire pair, where she resided on the bed. Low tone speaking up again, moving them on.

"Well... reckon it does little good for anyone to dwell on the path not taken. Not that it stops everyone from doing so anyways. Can't change what has been. Just try to clean up the mess afterwards... as I have done before. You should get some rest soon, need your energy, and so we can be on our way again. Not expecting your sister's bumbling knights to find us here, but I'd sooner keep as much distance from Toussaint as possible. It's more word spreading of a reward we will have to be concerned about, locals finding out and being eager to collect. Rather not have to kill any of the local bounty hunters, just men trying to earn a living, like me. Best not to stay anywhere longer than we need to, until we reach Kovir."

@starwrittenfates

Eskel took his time by the fire, savoring the meal and drink, even if it wasn't up to his usual preferences. Food was food, wherever one found it, a Witcher wasn't picky. When she spoke on the matter of her ex, he knew at once to whom she was referring, contemplating the matter silently. Something he knew would have to be acknowledged at some point. The Higher Vampire Dettlaff, who had razed Beauclair with a horde of Vampires, before being brought down by Geralt and Regis. The latter having to live the rest of his life despised and ostracized by his fellows, no less than how a Witcher had to live on the Path... all on account of the noblewoman's ambitions and manipulations. Her only punishment being a golden prison. Not having the courage to seek her own revenge by her own hand, instead trying to use another for the deed. Countless dead as a result of her actions. He was of the mind that if one wanted something done, they were supposed to do it themselves. He had made his own mistakes with Deidre, which ended up in many folk dead... but at least he could say he did it out of inaction, instead of active manipulations or ambitions. He had not intended anyone to suffer or die over it, had thought he was making the right decision to protect the Princess... Sylvia Anna on the other hand must have known she was gambling with other lives, actively doing what she had. Of course, the matter of Stregobor and Eltibald was liable to end up similarly, if hopefully less destructively. At last, finding his grim words and thoughts on the matter, the Witcher's deep, calm voice spoke up again, glowing viper eyes turning from the fire and looking back at her sapphire pair, speaking to her again gradually.

"Reckon so. Known my share of Bruxa over the years, hunting them and otherwise. Plenty of their bites on my neck to show for it. Heard tell you had an eye for Nosferatu yourself. Didn't go over so well, last time. Who would have thought attempting to manipulate a true Higher Vampire could end in anything other than disaster? Well... besides a Witcher, of course. Pity you didn't meet me first. Could have taught you plenty of useful lessons, without anyone having to learn them the hard way. Revenge tends to involve gambling with more lives than your own and the target of your revenge. Quite possible innocents will die when we come for Stregobor's head. Likely, knowing him. What he would do to survive in his comfortable tower. That's why we'll be doing our damnedest to prevent it. Limit deaths. Enough suffering in the world as it is, and it's always the innocent who pay the highest price, get caught up in the matters that don't involve them."

@starwrittenfates

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[luniviravosshipper]

POV: You’re sad and wanting comfort but the character you’d usually find comfort in was deemed unlikabled and totally undeserving of love by the narrative. So instead of feeling comfort thinking of that character now you just feel even worse. Because every time you try to immerse yourself back into the story they came from you have to constantly be reminded by it that they never got to receive any sort of affection and the story wanted the audience to know the reason was because it never felt they deserved any. Even when intentionally making them sympathetic at moments, at the end it’s clear that they were always planning on kicking the dog with them.

[willowcrowned]

“Making anyone over the age of 8 watch tcw should be forbidden” okay, but why?

because it’s bad in the way only bad kids shows can be. and then it’s also bad in fifteen other ways

[halfbaked00q]

#YES!!!! #honestly i was oversimplfying in the other post because i was hurrying to get it out before the train left the station and i lost wifi lolol #really my answer is more nuanced in that they are BOTH some flavor of dog all the time (bond is a dog who likes having orders and q is a #dog who has Something to Protect etc etc) #and sometimes they're both doing that and it's chill and sometimes bond is the cheetah and i Do think there are occasions on which q is #the cheetah. but it's a strange twisted up backwards sort of way #like hmm. how to describe the very specific vibe i have in my head #situation i was thinking of is specifically q has been Livestock Dog all day and in lots of different directions #because that's the thing right with q he has his flock but they're all over the world usually (q branch is also His but they're easier #because they're physically nearby as opposed to the agents that are out in th world in active danger) #and this stresses him tf out because he wants to be able to protect all of them and the nature of the job is #that he can't but he's Trying to in as many directions as he can #and i think in that specific flavor of situation bond would be the dog to his cheetah but with the added layer that bond is very much His #dog the whole time. and it works mostly by dint of bond's presence being calming in that Look Here's One (Your Favorite One) #He's Yours And He's Safe. take a breath and eat something and maybe delegate #i also enjoy q best when he us very in control of everything i just also enjoy it when this is simultaneously the source of problems for him #when situations appear in which it would be best for him to give the control up a little and he can't make himself do it because what if #something happens to his flock yknow #and in those situations bond would be the calming dog not in an in control calm dommy sort of way but in the exact other way. the subbiest #possible way. the look i'm here i'm doing well i'm yours put your teeth and your hands to my throat if you'd like sort of way #am i explaining this coherently? fuck if i know. i was napping two minutes ago and half of my brain still is (via @weidli)

No I think I get you lol it’s the like.. they are each others’ safe harbor/Home-ism of it all. Like one can’t be On all the time, they need a safe place to decompress & relax. (For me tho I personally like it more when the flavor is Q relaxes by being able to Take Care of Bond vs the like “he’s in control all the time so he needs to give up control to relax” – cuz like that’s not automatically true for everyone and also for me I think Q knows he isn’t in control all the time/he can’t control anything (if nothing else he got a Very Real lesson of that in Skyfall), whereas Bond is the one who almost compulsively HAS to be On all the time cuz if he isn’t On all the time in the field He Will Die. So being able to let go of control is more of a foreign concept to him and also a novelty and a marvel.)

But I do like the idea of Bond being a form of outlet for Q, it’s like… there’s so many variables out in the wild he can’t control, but with Bond this is a very tangible thing he can do. It’s like the idea of you may not be able to help the whole world, but you can help one person – or maybe like, you can’t adopt all of the dogs in need of a good home in the world, but you can make all of the difference to This One Specific Dog :P

But no I agree of like. Bond also being a calming/centering/grounding presence for Q in the like. Look, you are making a difference. You mean something – everything, even – to me. And it’s making all of the difference in the world.

(but yeah lmao also to expound on this even if idk if anyone actually wants me to- The reason I personally don’t favor Q as cheetah-coded is cuz I feel like cheetah-coding is like, Neuroses & Ambiguous Disorder-coding and I think if either of them is the Neurotic one, it’s Bond with all of his Ambiguous (and Unambiguous but Resolutely Undefined - if he doesn't Look At Them then surely they can't see him) Disorders. also Q gets assigned The Neurotic One a lot in fanon and I’m like, let’s shake it up, let Bond be the manic pixie dream girl disaster nightmare and Q be the Well Adjusted One (well, yk, the As Well Adjusted As One Working at MI6 Can Be one). Feels like very often even if they're like Q's just a normal guy he almost compulsively gets assigned a host of insecurities and etc. idk man he's kind of silly but I don't think this means he HAS to have a fundamental unsurety about himself. Let him be Confident perhaps even too much so but like clearly that's been/being tempered by Experience. Make his flaw be hubris not insecurity. Which is like not to say he doesn't also need gentleness & comfort & care & reassurance like I agreee I think as much as Bond can get a lot from Q, Q can get a lot from Bond. But yeah in more of a like. Yes even if I can't save the whole world, I can at least save him kind of way- which I think is what ur kind of getting at too maybe? <3)

meanwhile, Iiiii am marinating on the idea of Bond getting a handcrafted leather collar from Q (lovingly handcrafted, of course, by Q). it would be soooo good for him, it'd be like having Q's hand at his throat and on his nape all the time. it'd be a tangible sign that Q wants him and more importantly, wants to keep him. it would keep him soooo anchored and centered and grounded. it would be so so good for him and he would love it so much

[lesbiansanemi]

I hate when I’ll be complaining about some stupid bullshit a coworker does to other coworkers and half the time their response is to lower their voice and go “well…. You know…. I’m pretty sure they’re… on the spectrum, you know?” And every time I have a split second when I have to consider saying “you know I’m autistic, right?” just to make them vaguely uncomfortable for a few minutes and actually think about what they’re implying but of course I do not do that because the gratification is not worth a large sect of shitty coworkers knowing that about me and then talking about me like that every time I do something vaguely annoying or dumb but man…. It does get tempting sometimes

[1spooky-dad]

I can't believe there's people watching qsmp who hear the Spanish speakers and just go "well i don't know Spanish and there's nothing i can do about that. Guess I'll never know what they say". When Tahlulla said "then learn" cause quackity said he didn't speak Spanish, that was at y'all. If you can watch a 6 hour stream you can download doulingo and do a 5 minute Spanish lesson.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

i really do love practicing 🎻

[celery505]

My liking for older stuff really came out of nowhere I must admit. Like it has ALWAYS interested me. When I was little the only shows I’d really watch were shows my mum used to watch (70s/80s) and I’ve always wanted more, then peter davison hyperfixation hit and suddenly I know too much (even things my mum doesn’t know even though she was alive when they aired)

[shego1142]

This video is in many ways the best documented real life example of exactly everything discussed in this post!

People talk all the time about “facts over feelings” on every side of the political spectrum, but yeah, in actual practice, feelings will win out every single time.

This video is actually very dear to me in many ways because I believe that if we all go into a situation with the approach of attempting to make friends, even with people we may perceive as enemies, we’d be happier as a collective.

Changing people's minds on major things is actually a very long and difficult process for both parties. I didn't actually believe that pedestrian-centric city design would be better for people that drive cars until I spent almost a year living without a car and watched hours of youtube videos explaining the issue to me. Turns out that traffic actually does go down and driving does become more pleasant if you make it harder to drive a car and easier to walk. I just straight-up refused to believe that for years. Because people just talked about it like it was obvious. But it wasn't. Because I had spent my whole life in a car-centric city going around in a car and also I was an English major in college who did not study urban planning. You can't expect me to change my entire mindset around transportation all at once. I did reach a eureka moment like two weeks ago but that was after like three years of getting exposed to these ideas periodically and living without a car for 11 months.

And yeah this post is about my big dumb animal brain accepting the science behind narrow roads and the evils of certain types of zoning laws, but it's also about stuff in general. If you don't know why someone isn't changing their mind on something, it's probably because the information they're getting hasn't reached a critical mass in their monkey brain yet. Whenever you hear stories about people changing their minds on things or leaving a certain ideology the story never goes "A person on the internet did a slam dunk on me and then I changed my mind."

It's usually a long process that happens over the course of months or years. Seeds planted here and there that coalesce eventually into a new thought or ideology over the course of years or snap together or send someone down a new path after a certain event. Same with me about pedestrian-centric cities. For me the tipping point was finding this video, which isn't necessarily super special or the best and the guy who runs the channel, in my opinion, isn't the most qualified or the most sympathetic towards every city in every situation, but it was the feather that tipped the scales in my brain to "Oh, wait. Maybe everything I thought I knew about how cities work is wrong actually." But that video alone didn't change my mind. With the amount of stuff and people that have gradually and gently been giving me information over the past couple years, something else was bound to eventually change my mind.

People on Tumblr yelling about abolishing the car, if anything, slowed down me changing my mind. Every time I saw a person saying that driving cars is stupid and that cars are bad I took a step back into my old way of thinking in defense. Because I grew up only ever using a car to get around. Rhetoric like that felt like a direct attack on my family, who I know to be loving people who care about other human beings and who drive cars literally everywhere.

And you might say, posts and videos like that aren't actually an attack on people that drive or have to drive. Okay then. Why are they phrased like that? Because that makes you feel good? Because you're angry? Alright, your anger at how it's currently impossible to get around if you don't own a car and how people who don't actually want to drive are being forced to drive is reasonable. And now I understand why it exists. I'm kind of angry too now that I get how this stuff works. However, is calling the people you're trying to convince stupid to their face and immediately bombarding them with your most radical ideas that might be completely detached from their reality and how they understand the world really the most productive way to channel your anger?

What about a guy with a knee problem that lives in rural Appalachia? Do you think he is gonna be convinced by your angry rants about bike lanes? No. He lives on a mountain that he can't climb or bike up because he's disabled and has only ever known getting around in a car. What about a person who overheats easily living in a suburb in the middle of the desert? Do you think she is inspired by your green lush pictures of trolleys running through parks in The Netherlands? No. If she leaves her house for too long without ice water she could literally die and you're going on about getting rid of, in her mind, the only thing that lets her go to the grocery store and not faint.

And again, this post is about my inability to comprehend walkable cities, but it's also about everything else you might ever want to convince someone of. The way you talk about things with your in-group that knows exactly what you're talking about should not be the same way you talk about that thing with people that you're genuinely trying to convince of something.