ojovivo
No title available
dirt enthusiast
h
Peter Solarz
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
titsay
Misplaced Lens Cap
Product Placement
Andulka
No title available
if i look back, i am lost
shark vs the universe
Janaina Medeiros
d e v o n
hello vonnie
Show & Tell
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
cherry valley forever
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from Australia
seen from Netherlands
seen from New Zealand
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
@hundredpaces-blog1
OOC: Update!
Still alive! Just very, very busy. The past week was tech week for the show, and we open tomorrow. Last show is next weekend, so don’t expect to hear too much from me until after that, but I promise I’m still here!
Apologies to folks I owe replies to-- I’ll get to them when I can, but I totally understand if you’ve since lost the muse for the thread.
Chaotic neutral for Vienne.
If she was a D&D character, that’s probably what I’d go with, yeah. She has done plenty of evil things (read: lots of murder), though, and is generally pretty willing to do more, even if she’s not exactly okay with doing it.
I’m not sure if I’d say she was chaotic by choice. Vienne is utterly lacking stability and her life, and while she’s learned to deal with it, she kind of hates it. Given the opportunity, Vienne would prefer to be farther into “neutral” territory, but that just isn’t the path that she wound up going down.
The ones that hurt the most are the ones you least expect, so there’s no real way to prepare except maybe hoping your bones are strong enough not to shatter.
Cancer (via zodiacsociety)
Tell me what my muse’s D&D alignment is!
Bonus points for why. Choices are, Lawful good, Neutral good, Chaotic good Lawful neutral, (True) neutral, Chaotic neutral Lawful evil, Neutral evil, Chaotic evil
Don’t forget to say which muse for multi muse blogs.
On the bright side, I’m feeling less exhausted than I was earlier today! Too bad I seem to have forgotten how words go together.
Gonna hunt for some ask memes, maybe that’ll break down the writer’s block I’ve got going right now.
@hundredpaces
The girl bumped into the woman hard, “Ah, sorry Miss!” But she didn’t have to terribly long, she had to catch up to Stanley; a stallion galloping down the street in a blind panic.
Vienne wasn’t terribly concerned with some slip of a girl colliding with her. No matter the force behind it, it certainly couldn’t compare to the great beast careening through the streets. The elf merely shook her head, gesturing to the horse.
“You’ll never catch your animal if you waste your breath apologizing to me!”
#Ведьмак #Ведьмак3 #TheWitcher #thewitcher3 #thewitcher3wildhunt #wildhunt #Witcher
‘These so-called ‘feelings’ are ruining my reputation as a heartless bitch.’
kirschteinswaifu:
My favorite relationship trope is where person A is literally an asshole to everyone but person B scoops up their little bitter ass with their angelic personality and person A becomes a love struck fool
(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ig-RShZ6m4)
@hundredpaces I can’t help but think that this might be Vienne’s theme song.
you’re not wrong
why insult someone when you can say something nice in a very sarcastic tone
At first, it seemed as though the bespectacled man was trudging towards their table, but as if by magic, his head suddenly reared, pivoted sideways and he went to the three other elves whose image practically screamed Scoia’tael instead.
We must go, Avallac’h spoke, although his baritone could only be heard inside of Vienne’s head like a distant echo. His fifth sense told him those elves without a certificate wouldn’t get the chance to have their happy ending, and putting themselves out in the spotlight only meant trouble.
Hopefully, they weren’t Vienne’s friends.
Standing almost as silently as a cat, it seemed as though the elf was about to walk away. The imminent possibility of Vienne butting into other people’s business loomed overhead like a dark omen. Were that the case and they would all be forced to fight.
It didn’t even occur to Vienne that the words hadn’t come out of the man’s mouth, at first. Her lips merely twisted into a grimace as she followed his example, standing and shuffling after him.
She spared a fraction of a moment to look back towards the other elves, and something cold and ugly settled in the pit of her stomach. There was a time, once, when she would have stayed.
But that time was long past now, and she followed after the strange hooded man, hands shoved in her pockets and nose crinkled like she smelled something foul.
It wasn’t until they were outside that Vienne spoke again, and in a much quieter tone than anything she had ever used within. “You’re magicked, aren’t you?” She asked, frowning deeply at the ground. “I heard you in-- in my head, and don’t you say that was the drink. And you probably conjured up that paper, too.” Could papers like that even be conjured? Probably, Vienne decided. There was no possible way they were authentic.
Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.
David Foster Wallace (via pre-party)
@snarkomancy
“Oh? Didn’t he? What a terrible shame. But then again, he, whoever he is, likely would have struggled to find anyone greedy enough or stupid enough to think they could successfully dispatch of Philippa Eilhart! He more than likely paid you an obscenely meagre amount, yet I would bet my left hand that to you it seemed a fortune. Enough to throw away your life for?”
Let’s have a look at you, shall we? Ugh, I can already tell that the internal workings of your mind are going to be distasteful to say the least.
She began to peel the hood and scarf away from the woman’s face, with painstaking slowness, unblinking yellow eyes seeming to pierce her with their gaze. With a mixture of morbid curiosity and a hint of disgust, like a coroner performing a particularly interesting but aesthetically unpleasant autopsy, Philippa began to read the assassin’s mind.
So.
This was it. This was how Vienne was going to die. She had to admit, being murdered by a sorceress she was sent to kill was a much grander end than she had ever hoped for, though Vienne suspected that it would still be a very unpleasant one. As the cloth concealing her identity was pulled back, Vienne’s eyes snapped up to meet the gaze of her captor, wild and terrified, but with a sort of curiosity that might mirror the sorceress’s own.
Her thoughts were, unsurprisingly, a jumbled mess, as could be expected given the situation. A frantic undercurrent of kill her kill her before she kills you kill her, a steady stream of creative profanities, the idle occurrence that she had never been this close to a mage for this long, and the powerful longing to be several hundred yards away and holding her bow.
A high, utterly humorless laugh escaped Vienne’s lips as she realized what was happening. “Wasn’t enough.” She answered, desperately trying to pull her mind away. “Could’ve paid me every last coin in Temeria, wouldn’t’ve been enough for this.”
Eyeing her fiery disposition with an edge of wariness but not so much fear, Geralt smiled crookedly as he moved to sit across from her at the table. “Just looking out for folk,” came his lame excuse. “And I’m not here to prevent you from getting drunk, so much as providing you with a bit more weight in your stomach so you can drink more,” he pointed out, reaching across the table to the side to grab the alcohol decanter and pouring himself some to indulge in.
“There a reason you’re trying to drink yourself blind?” he queried, lifting his eyebrows along with the cup to his lips to sip at, testing the drink before he took a longer swallow.
At the sight of the witcher moving for her booze-- her booze!-- Vienne moved to slap his hand away, only to decide better of it. Instead, she merely glared across the table as the man sat down and shoved more bread into her mouth.
His question earned him a look as if he’d just asked if there was a reason she had skin. She lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely to, well, everything. “There’s your reason right there, Witcher. Unless you wanted something more specific?” She washed back her mouthful of bread and tore off another hunk, not bothering to close her mouth while she chewed.
OOC
coming to the realization that your muse has looted like 70% of the shit she owns off of dead people.
