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lassieposting · 1 year

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Jaskier is fucking appalled by the animal-naming habits of every single witcher within three (3) days of arriving at Kaer Morhen

This is a man who named each individual mouse in his prison cell. And now he finds that it's not just Geralt, who keeps buying chestnut mares and naming them all Roach like some kind of imagination-deficient walking time loop.

It's Lambert, the absolute cretin, who always names his poor animal Horse, as though it needs a fucking reminder, because "it's a fucking horse, songbird, it doesn't need a fucking name".

It's Vesemir, who's spent at least Geralt's entire lifetime leaving his horses with whatever name they had when he bought them, even when it's entirely inappropriate for a witcher's mount. Geralt remembers learning to ride on Vesemir's big black gelding Samson, which is not terrible as horse names go, he supposes. But Samson was succeeded by Dame Bubbles III, who was named by her previous owner's eight-year-old daughter, and even Vesemir himself can't keep a straight face at the memory.

It's Coën, who's always named his horses after food, which seems terribly mean. Rump-Steak is actually very sweet, nipping habit aside.

And then Eskel comes home, right as Jaskier is comforting poor Rump-Steak ("Never mind, dear boy, my parents named me Julian and I turned out alright") and finally, here is a man with some sense. Lil Bleater is not the most creative of names, but Eskel picked it himself, and his horse has a suitably witchery intimidating name even if he's a sweet soft boy who gets bullied by Miss Roachie. Someone around here has a brain cell - thank heavens!

(This is a very wrong-footing introduction for Eskel. He's not used to having strange men drowning in Geralt's fluffiest fur-lined cloak stalk up to him before he's even got in the door, addressing him by name and demanding to know what he calls his horse. But he's delighted to be pronounced "the only one around here with some bloody sense", asks Geralt, "Is this your bard?" and promptly explodes laughing at the thought of Geralt getting henpecked every time he names a new Roach for twenty fucking years)

#the witcher #kaer morons #geraskier #jaskier #the witcher headcanons #netflix witcher #eskel is alive because i said so

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8thmuse · 1 month

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i am so fucking normal about this

#do you know what this photo reminds me of?:)#zutara shippers are u alive #zutara #avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #zuko #katara #how do i use tumblr #chronically online

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angelsonoah · 3 months

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"There is so much to live for."

Not to him. Never to Morpheus.

#when being alive is a choice you actively make every single day #the only thing that kept him on surviving is his duty as the Endless #but then things started falling apart and nothing is the same #the sandman #morpheus #noah-angel-art #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix

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subakiku · 3 months

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" The society of the snow " is not a remake of " Alive ". Fist is a real story about Uruguayan people who lost in the Andes Everest. Alive have some parts that are more accurate that the new movie, but are little ones, like avalanche when they sleep, and the shoes part. Other ones are pure fantasy. They don't sepeak, don't act and don't look like us ( Uruguayan ppl). But the new movie have latino Rioplatense actors ( almost Argentinan), and the major rol is play by a Uruguayan. Even the survivors play little roles in the film.

In Uruguay we are only 3 million ppl so or media and audiovisual are not development at all, so is a good decision to have a director from Spain.

My only complaint, I would have included more Uruguayan actors. "Numa" played by Enzo Vogrincic is a Uruguayan theater actor, and have a high level, for sure are others actors waiting for that big chance. Actually I'm happy that he has a good reception.

Sorry for my bad English.

#alive #society of the snow #la sociedad de la nieve #alive remake #uruguay #numa turcatti #enzo vogrincic #andes #viven #netflix #the society of the snow

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arcanegifs · 1 year

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"If I can figure who made this, it could lead me directly to whoever's behind it all. The answer is here, staring me in the face. I can feel it."

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mysticmunson · 2 years

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annie

prompt: when you get put in charge of babysitting for the day, it's time to play house.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mentions of parental passings, baby referred to as big/chubby (affectionally of course, i was/am a chubby ass baby)

strongly recommend listening to annie by john denver as you read :)

Babies seem to always gravitate towards certain people, whether related or not, and while some force it, others come naturally.

Eddie was a reluctant baby man.

Any of his friends' younger siblings immediately latched onto his leg as he walked by, realizing his jeans were not heavy a mere moment ago, looking down to see a smile full of open gaps.

As much as he tried to grimace, the attention was quite nice on both ends as the small babes usually sunk into a pit of giggles. This happened to be the case when your older sister came to town, leaving you at home to take care of her 8 month old for the day.

The morning was fairly quiet, Pamela sleeping for most of it, occasionally waking up to play with some toys. She wasn’t the clingiest baby, but found comfort in your arms as you swayed her on your hip.

“Who the hell is that?” Eddie asked, having let himself in the door after seeing your care alone in the driveway. Approaching the tiny human with skepticism, you smiled, turning slightly so he could have a better look at her. She stared up at him from your shoulder, arms flapping with a block securely between her fingers.

“This is Pamela, my niece.” You laughed, sitting on the blue couch, crossing your legs up on the plush seats. He hesitantly sat down, like being too close would somehow cause a shift in the balance of the universe. But her gaze was glued to him.

He let out a chuckle, eyes still wide, “Didn’t she have this baby like two days ago? She’s big, not in a bad way!”

Her chubby little arms extended, dropping her toy with a thud as she leaned closer to Eddie.

“Oh Christ.” He mumbled as she crawled into his lap, holding one of his fingers with a ring on it, “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Hold her, she doesn’t bite hard.” You teased, watching his hands tentatively wrap around her onesie clad body to bring closer to his chest. The nervous bounce of his leg made her giggle, an unmistakable smile coming to Eddie’s lips at the noise.

The scene was too ironic, the whole town had been scared of Eddie his whole life, when the boy can’t even hold a baby without fear. He was kind, gentle, and sweet, but most people weren’t aware. Even your loved ones were hesitant when you began dating around 2 and a half years ago.

“Okay, she’s pretty cute.” He confessed, her small grasp locking his nose as it scrunched, relaxing further into his seat. She started to climb up his chest, reaching for his hair.

“Pammy, no.” You cooed, lifting her back to your arms, but her face dropped. She whimpered and made grabby hands at the man in front of you, his brown iris’ flickering to yours.

He tentatively held his palms out, where she instantly went back to, and put her on his Iron Maiden tee, face squished against the skull printed on the black fabric.

The next few hours were spent playing house, a fair mix of napping, eating, and changing, the latter being the only activity Eddie opted out of. There was no denying how much Pamela was latching onto him, even catching him talking to her when you excused yourself to the bathroom.

The night was winding down, a soft buzz of the tv mixed with the gentle snores nestled on Eddie’s chest. His hand absentmindedly stroked her soft hair as he yawned, shifting to find more comfort as you sat on your bed.

“If you ever want kids, Eddie, you’ll be a great father.” You whispered as he remained staring down at the little one, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Do you want kids?” He asked, peering over at you, but you leaned onto his shoulder. If anyone were to come in, it would look as if you were a family, it felt real for a brief moment for him.

You nodded, “Eventually.”

It was quiet once more, a laugh track playing over an episode of The Brady Bunch. Pamela stirred, making a squeaky noise, limbs flexing against him. She started to twist, leading you to pull her between you two, covering her body with the quilt you were already under.

As you both looked down at her, he noticed the features similar to yours. Not an exact match, but you looked close enough to your sister that he could see it in his head, having a family.

“I would name my kid, Annie.” He muttered, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. Your brows furrowed, trying to think of any significance that name had for him, knowing he isn't obsessed with the musical and doesn't know anyone by that name.

“I don’t have many memories of my mom, a lot of stuff got blocked out, but I remember a few things. She loved John Denver, especially the song Annie, it was his wife's name. But she would sing it to me, spinning me in the kitchen and restarting the record over and over.”

Eddie didn’t talk about his parents a lot, only knowing his dad was arrested when he was 13 and that his mom had passed away when he was 10. When she died, he moved in with Wayne after his dad had a few lashing outs that ended with a bloody nose and a broken arm. He could rant for hours on end about his dad, how shitty he was, how glad he was he was rotting in some jail cell.

But when it came to his mom, he found himself speechless. He remembers her kind eyes, the ones he saw on himself and hated when he got a look at himself angry, thinking of how much she hated seeing him upset. How she would always make cookies, writing notes in his black lunch pail that he now used for more nefarious activities, and her head scarfs that were made of floral fabrics.

“She used to do this thing where she would grab a wooden spoon and sing it,” He swallowed, staring down at Pamela, but you knew his mind had wandered to his childhood home. “She was such a great singer, I think it’s why I love music so much. But her favorite song was Annie, it even played on the radio in the hospital waiting room when she…”

While his voice trailed off, you saw his eyes gloss over, not reaching a point of tears, but nearing. Your hand grabbed his, lacing it together and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He looked up at you, smiling before planting a kiss on your lips, careful to not put any pressure beneath him as Pam slept.

He gently hummed the melody of the song forever ingrained in his mind along with the wispy laughs from his mom who patched up his skinned knees and kissed his head goodnight. He was terrified of kids, never wanting to lead another member of the Munson family line down a toxic path.

But when he looked down at someone who even resembles you, he knew he wanted that life mixed with his pandemonium.

“Come let me love you, let me give my life to you. Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms. Let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you. Come let me love you, come love me again.” He sang softly, his voice cracking after being so used to singing metal songs loudly.

“We can name ours, Annie.” You whispered as he smirked, propping his head up with his elbow.

He made a false thinking face, stroking his chin, “I don’t know, I’m keeping my options open to the perfect candidate.”

Punching his shoulder, he jolted and laughed, quieting when he felt the baby turn. He grinned unabashedly, tucking hair behind your ear.

“I’m kidding, you’re it for me whether you want me around or not.” He hummed, hearing the sound of the garage opening, sitting up.

“Glad to hear.” You smirked, lifting Pamela to your chest as she lazily opened her bright eyes. “Say goodbye to Uncle Eddie.”

Somehow the title made his chest flutter, standing to kiss her head before you walked down to your sister. The quiet sounds of whispering came from below as he sat on the edge of your bed, fiddling with his watch on his left wrist.

While he tried not to think of his mom often, certain things always reminded him of her and he was glad when they did. As badly as he wanted her back, he knew all he had left was those foggy days behind him, littered with negativity from his father. But those orange hued moments of running in the yard during the summer or the blue cozy memories of hot chocolate on winter nights, that’s what he preferred to think about.

He wanted to be the man she wanted him to be, you wanted him to be, hell, who he wanted to be. While having a baby still terrified him, having a baby with you made him feel secure, and he wouldn’t let that go.

authors note: hi im pmsing and got very emotional over the thought of eddie being a dad sooooo.

taglist: @steeldaisies @meaganjm @masterofmunson @downbythebay4 @wicked-wordy-witchy-witch @femalefilmaker @wiltedwonderland @yourthebrokengirl @jessyballet @iheartyouyou @gloryekaterina @missscarlettangel @variety-fangirl @wigglywoos59 @imsuchafriggensimp @thegirlblogstuff @lovelyladymayyy @strawwberrry @ktjmac @dovesnrosesnreblogs @fknemily @spn-obession @diaryofthedoll @imagine-all-the-imagines

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sapient-golem · 10 months

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If they had met younger it be so cute and dangerous

#enid sinclair #enid sinclair fanart #wenclair #wednesday addams fanart #wednesday netflix #wednesday fanart #wednesday is soft for enid #wednesday 2022 #my art #yes I’m alive #art

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littledreamling · 1 year

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Instead of (or perhaps along with) Hob being proficient in all kinds of weaponry (10/10, amazing trope), give me Hob being proficient in medieval and renaissance instruments and dances.

Give me Hob Gadling who loves the beat of the drums, now that he’s had a few hundred years to remove himself from the battlefield where they used to be played to raise morale and time reloading. Give me Hob Gadling who unironically loves the bagpipes, who knows how to play the bagpipes, who will march across campus belting out a lively traditional melody that only he remembers, much to his students’ delight and his fellow professors’ annoyance. Give me Hob Gadling who can’t help but get up and dance whenever he hears a folk tune because it reminds him of home, of the home he used to have, long before any dark strangers or mentions of immortality. Give me Hob Gadling who teaches renaissance court and country dances as a history class and every time he sees one of his students grinning with the thrill of it, he can almost feel Eleanor standing beside him, reveling in the joy of music and laughter and good company. Give me Hob Gadling who ropes Dream into dancing with him, because they may be the last people on earth who know these steps and Hob isn’t going to let them fade because they’re important, because they’re what make him human.

Give me Hob Gadling who chooses to keep more than just his soldiering expertise alive, whose heart leaps at the first beat, whose feet tap and legs jump and arms weave as he expresses his love for life in every way possible.

#this was a draft that i finished and now i just want it out of my drafts #anyway i still love this idea #because humanity is more than just war and strife #humanity is song and dance and the joy of companionship #and hob would want to keep that alive too #hob gadling #the sandman #sandman netflix #dream of the endless #morpheus #dreamling

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agathasslutt · 1 year

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i watched wednesday for the plot

the plot:

#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday #wednesday netflix #i’m pathetic #just say it #i love her a lot though #and she’s alive #she’s with me #it’s all good

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faithfulfangirl · 1 year

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⚠️if you’re like me, you’re impatiently dying for Shadow and Bone s2, so i suggest watching Lockwood and Co in the meantime⚠️

found family, hurt/comfort, slow burn romance, mystery, sword fights, ghost hunting, tragic backstories, suspense, cool world building, excellent lighting in night scenes, a bomb ass soundtrack and not to mention that Kaz and Lockwood are like. same person, different fonts lol. it’s what’s getting me through this wait!

btw if you’re a fan of any these shows it’s just right for you (in terms of vibes, but they are distinct)

it’s being called one of the greatest book to screen adaptations ever, getting great reviews from critics and viewers alike!

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blaithnne · 5 months

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“Man Hilda’s gonna end, how will the fandom stay alive with no content?” Be serious

#we’ve never had content keeping us alive let’s be honest #hilda #hilda the series #netflix hilda #hilda netflix #Hilda seaosn 3 #Sadie Shitposting #textpost

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katsu28 · 1 year

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OMG grapple with rafe please 🤭🤭

i have not written for this man in a hot minute!! thank u for requesting ri my dear ILY <3

rafe cameron x reader, 1.8k

“You want me to take you down.”

“No, I want you to try.”

“You’re a child, Cameron.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re scared, aren’t you?” Rafe teased, holding your phone up high and away from your reaching hands. “C’mon, you want it back, you’re gonna have to come get it.”

“I’m not playing your game!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Just give it back!”

“Come. Get. It.” He repeated slowly, a drawn out proposition paired with the gleefully smug grin on his face that had you huffing in annoyance at your best friend. He tossed your phone on the armchair behind him, hunkering down into a guard stance. “You can admit defeat, y’know. Just say ‘Rafe Cameron is the greatest of all time’. I’ll even shorten it for you, you can just call me the GOAT.”

“How ‘bout I call you a donkey instead?”

He feigned being stabbed in the gut for a few dramatic seconds before pulling the imaginary knife out and pretending to drop it on the floor. “Low blow, but I can handle it.”

You rolled your eyes at him. There were two options here—play his game and try to take him down, or surrender and say those dreaded words. Naturally, you picked the one you had no chance at.

Sending a prayer to whoever was listening, you feigned left and went right, lunging at Rafe to the best of your ability. He didn’t fall for your weak attempt at a fake out, instead catching you around the waist and taking you down to the carpet with ease.

You noticed that he took the care to slide his hand under your head so it didn’t bounce off the floor. It would’ve been nice, except that hand retreated and pinned your wrist above your head before you could fight Rafe off. He did the same to the other hand too.

His knee slotted between yours for leverage as you wriggled in his grasp with no avail. You were pinned securely under his hands as he loomed over you.

“Told you I’d win.” He breathed, his grin very Cheshire cat-like. You opened your mouth to shoot back a witty retort, but your voice died in your throat when his head dropped down a little closer towards yours.

You suddenly came to terms with the very compromising position you were in with Rafe right now; your faces were mere inches apart, so close you could smell that damn mint gum he was always chewing on. So close you could see the scar hidden in his eyebrow he’d gotten when he’d crashed his bike when you were kids, the flecks of green in his blue eyes. In short, he was right there.

The tension in the room had quickly turned unbearably thick, too heavy for your liking, but you couldn’t bring yourself to break eye contact. Part of you liked the way Rafe was looking at you.

His eyes flicked down to your lips for a split millisecond before snapping right back up, and if you hadn’t been in such close proximity, you wouldn’t have noticed it at all. But you did, and so began the most devious plan that you really only had a few seconds to formulate in your head.

You pretended to struggle for a few more seconds before feigning giving up, aiming a pout up at Rafe. His mouth curved into a smug sort of smile, all previous intensity in those irritatingly pretty eyes of his long since forgotten. He probably thought he’d just won.

“Face it, you can’t—” Whatever gloat he was about to throw your way was cut off by you leaning up towards him, pressing your lips against his. Rafe made a strangled sort of sound right off the bat, freezing immediately the instant your mouth touched his. Just as fast, he kissed you back eagerly, way more eager than one friend should be kissing the other. And as cliche as it was to say it, fireworks erupted in your belly, bursting against your ribcage like it was the goddamn Fourth of July.

You only hoped he couldn’t hear how loud your heart was pounding in your chest.

His grip on your wrists loosened, one hand coming down to brace himself on the carpet while the other planted itself next to your head. The way he was kissing you so firmly nearly had you melting, but the little voice at the back of your head was yelling at you to remember what all this was for. No, you weren’t kissing Rafe Cameron just for shits and giggles; you were on a mission. And no matter how good it felt, how right, you’d be damned if you didn’t complete it.

You bent your knees, planting them against his firm chest and pushing up—not hard enough for it to hurt, but hard enough that you caught him off guard. Before he could register what was happening, you had him flipped on his back, tables very much turned with his wrists trapped in both your hands.

“Gotcha.” You breathed, mirroring his earlier smile now that you were the one with the upper hand. Rafe’s Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped hard, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. Maybe you were completely misinterpreting the situation entirely, but it almost looked like he wanted to kiss you again. You clambered off him quickly to rid the thought, snatching your phone off the cushion and shoving it into your back pocket. “Good game.”

Rafe stumbled to his feet and cleared his throat, hunched shoulders straightening as he brushed the nonexistent dust from his polo. “I should—I’m gonna, uh, get going. Wheeze asked me to help her with something for school, I should go…help her with it.” Lie. He just didn’t know what to do other than go.

“Right, yeah, of course. You should go.” Lie. You just didn’t know what to do other than let him.

He rocked on the balls of his feet awkwardly a few times, hands shoved into his shorts pockets awkwardly. “I’ll text you later?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, uh. Bye then.”

You watched him leave, watched him let himself out and make his way down the walk and climb into his truck, wanting to say something more but losing your chance the second he drove away.

“Shit,” You breathed, burying your face in your hands. It seemed like a smart plan at the time, but now having said and done it, kissing Rafe—kissing your best friend who didn’t feel the same way about you—was the stupidest idea you’d ever had.

-------

You’d just gotten settled into bed when you heard a commotion at your window that sounded suspiciously like pebbles clinking against the glass, and you knew who it was in an instant. There was only one person who preferred the throwing rocks at your window method over texting, so when you padded over and peered outside, you weren’t surprised to see Rafe grinning back up at you.

He motioned for you to open the window and you did, retreating back to the warm comfort of your blankets as he climbed up the tree next to your room and slid inside expertly. He’d probably done the same maneuver a million times throughout your lives, though this time it was different. This time, you weren’t just two best friends having a late night hangout. The same tension from earlier was back, only this time, your kiss weighed heavy on your chest.

“Hi,” He said quietly, brushing the leaves out of his product-less hair. The action made the soft strands flop over his forehead, giving him a younger, more boyish look. You always did enjoy this version of him.

“Hi.” You echoed, trying to ignore the feeling it sent flip-flopping through your stomach. Rafe always gave you that feeling.

“Mind if I sit?”

“‘Course.” Rafe sat a sizable distance away from you at the foot of your bed, broad shoulders hunched, leg bouncing. You knew this change in demeanor was because of what you’d done earlier.

“Can I ask—”

“Is everything—” You pressed your lips shut, motioning for him to speak first.

“Can I ask you a question?” He repeated, smoothing his hand over his knee as if that would stop it from shaking up and down. You merely nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to say or do anything else. “Okay. Okay, cool.” He cleared his throat, inhaling a quick breath and letting it out just as fast. “Did you mean it? Earlier, when you kissed me. Was it real?”

“Real,” You repeated, tilting your head at him.

“Yeah, real. Like, did you kiss me because you just wanted to win, or because you actually wanted to? Was it a real kiss? With like, real feelings behind it.”

You knew what you wanted to say, but you just weren’t sure if you wanted to say it. Because if you said it out loud, that would make your feelings real and not just a nagging feeling deep in your chest. If you said it out loud, there was no taking it back, no fixing things if everything went wrong. This would be permanent.

But with the way he was looking at you, the way he knew you, there was no point in lying. “It was real, Rafe. I wanted to.”

His mouth fell into a surprised little oh, but he was quick to shift his reaction. “Think maybe you’d wanna do it again?” He asked, a genuine question marked with a hopeful smile curving his lips.

You only had time to nod before Rafe was right up against you, hands sliding up to cup your face softly, lips meeting yours even softer. The ring on his index finger was cold against the warmth of your skin, leaving a coolness in its wake as his hand moved to settle at the back of your neck. Your hands found themselves twisting into the front of his faded Kildare Academy sweatshirt, bringing him closer to you.

This kiss was much sweeter than the first. While that one was spur of the moment clumsy, this one was tender. Less like working towards an end goal and more like going with the flow, seeing where you’d end up.

Rafe was panting by the time he pulled away, chest heaving as his eyes searched yours for any ounce of regret and came up empty. Then he smiled, big, wide, relieved. You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of seeing that smile, especially when it was aimed at you.

“I’m gonna be completely honest with you, I would’ve won if you hadn’t kissed me.” He insisted, giving your neck a playful squeeze. You opened your mouth to protest, but he pressed another quick kiss against your lips. “But I don’t even mind that you played dirty, because now I’ve won the best prize of all.”

“Oh, boo. That was so cheesy, Cameron.”

“I got my girl, I’m allowed to be cheesy for once.”

#first time writing in a month can i get a hell yeahh from the rafe girlies #okay im gonna disappear back into the abyss i just wanted to let u folks know im still alive n kickin (kinda)#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #non canon rafe cameron #non canon rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx #obx netflix #drew starkey

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