Tumgik
#careless
pratchettquotes · 6 months
Text
Some people like to settle down with a good book. No-one in possession of a complete set of marbles would like to settle down with a book of magic, because even the individual words have a private and vindictive life of their own and reading them, in short, is a kind of mental Indian wrestling. Many a young wizard has tried to read a grimoire that is too strong for him, and people who've heard the screams have found only his pointy shoes with the classic wisp of smoke coming out of them and a book which is, perhaps, just a little fatter. Things can happen to browsers in magical libraries that make having your face pulled off by tentacled monstrosities from the Dungeon Dimensions seem a mere light massage by comparison.
Terry Pratchett, Mort
188 notes · View notes
classycookiexo · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media
35 notes · View notes
howlingday · 4 months
Note
So how about a little challenge, choose one of the following 3 songs as the theme of the writing or background music for it: 1.-NEFFEX - Careless 2.-NEFFEX- Rumors 3.-REDASH : OUR HOMETOWN [GODDESS OF VICTORY: NIKKE OST] ps: this is only if you want.
I do want, and you know what? I accept your challenge, and in reply, I say, GIVE ME ALL THREE.
---------------------------------------------------
Another Sleepless Night
Lucyna Kushinada, better known by her friends as Lucy, stared out her apartment window. Her friends... Assuming anyone else survived that night. Everything was already fucked from the start, with her getting kidnapped and held hostage while the crew charged headfirst into the shitstorm of Arasaka gunfire.
She remembered reading the news report about the "violent gangers who tried to storm Arasaka tower" and manged to be "summarily punished as to be expected." She'd read every news outlet she could on her way to the moon. Hoping, praying that someone found something that the others didn't and somebody survived.
But no, that's not what she found. They all said the same thing with different words. Rebecca is dead. David is dead. Days later, they found Kiwi dead outside a Buck-a-Slice in Arroyo. Much as she was a backstabbing and cold-hearted bitch, a part of her missed her.
But not as much as she missed David. On the moon, she swore she saw him jumping around on the moon, just like he did before. Her throat felt dry, so she left to grab a drink. Something hard enough to make her regret. But she couldn't forget.
Never. Because every day, she regretted not ripping off her helmet and dancing with him on the moon.
(NEFFEX - Careless)
===============================
Jaune Wants to F Pyrrha
People said a lot of things about Pyrrha Nikos. Some said she tall, beautiful, and perfect in every way. Some said she was Remnant's light of hope against the dark tides of the Grimm. That none could ever defeat the aptly named Invincible Girl.
And yet there was surprisingly little said about her in any negative way. Pyrrha never made any statements of her being perfect, but public response was she was being modest. The first negative thing anyone ever said about her was during her first few weeks of Beacon Academy, when her teammate, Nora Valkyrie, said she "apologized way, way, waaay too much" and "was too nice for her own good". Since then, she had been small attempts to remedy these issues, but this seemed to only fuel the already roaring flames of the perfectionist ideal people made of her. It seemed no matter what she did, she would always be perfect.
Until one day, she met a young man about her age. Her team leader, Jaune Arc, who was almost her exact opposite in every way. Nobody said a nice thing about him since his arrival, save for the few friends he'd made, and even then, they had much to say about him.
Jaune was weak, scraggly, and was inept at combat when he began attending. She could personally attest to his lacking qualities when he not only didn't have his aura unlocked, but he didn't know what aura was! But she knew better than to judge a book by it's cover and decided on the day of her initiation that he would be her partner.
Was it selfish to pick and choose who she wanted to team up with? Maybe, but it worked out in the end. Where Jaune lacked in combat strength, he made up for it in his tactical mindset, leading their team to victory. One could say he was the brains of the outfit, though his low test scores would argue that point.
Over time, though, his lacking skill became more and more evident, so he asked Pyrrha to train him. This leads us to now, on the rooftop above their dorm, where they hold their near nightly sparring matches. They had finished a mock match, sitting next to each other, hands so tantalizingly close and yet so painfully distant. He looked to her and she looked to him.
Jaune gazed into Pyrrha's eyes, and she into his. The blue sky overhead met green hills below, and she couldn't help but admire the way he looked at her. She could see... No, she could feel love and adoration glowing from him. Her heart pounded as he spoke to her.
"Pyrrha, I... I wanna ask you something." Pyrrha swallowed a lump in her throat. "And... And if you don't want to, I'd understand and respect your decision."
It was at this moment she realized where they were. They were alone, isolated from their friends, on the rooftop of the school with a night sky filled with gleaming stars and a moon nearly whole. This was a night she'd always dreamed of.
"Anything, Jaune." She answered.
"I... I wanna fight you!"
"...Come again?" She didn't hear that wrong, did she?
"I want to fight you." Jaune said, with more confidence this time.
"I... I sorr-" She stopped herself. "I mean, excuse me, but I don't understand what you mean. Didn't we finish sparring?"
"Yeah, we did, but," he looked up, to the stars that glittered high, "but I meant I want to fight you for real one day. I want to get so good, you don't have to hold back against me when we do spar."
She wouldn't argue with his statement, considering nothing he said could be seen as a lie. She was leagues above him with her years of athletic and competitive training, so of course she would have to hold back when the two sparred. A kindness she didn't often share with others, or ever in the case of the resident bully, Cardin Winchester.
"Do... Do you really mean that?" Pyrrha asked. "Do you really want to fight me?"
"Pyrrha, if I could fight you on your level, and not totally suck, I think I'd be the happiest guy who ever lived."
Giving a puff instead of a laugh, she couldn't stop smiling at him. She leaned against him, her pinkie touching his. Then, his hand slid over hers, and she felt her heart nearly explode with joy. She gave a soft sigh.
"One day... I want to fight you, too."
(NEFFEX - Rumors)
**********************************************
The Napping Bounty Hunter
Zora Salazar was a lot of things.
First off, she hates epithets and whatever criminals she hunts down using them gets an extra crack in the jaw. Two of 'em if they're really going on and on about how their supposed "magic superpower" automatically means they win.
Second, she herself is Inscribed, and her epithet was, is, and will be broken. Helped make her bounty hunting easier, sure, but she rarely used when she was tracking. Not unless someone gives her a reason, like ticking her off in a way similar to the previous paragraph. Still, her epithet was definitely the strongest she'd seen yet.
Third, she's a bit of a romantic. Not exactly like the loved-dovey, kissy face, "I'd die for you" kinda romantic. More of a "two men enter, one man leaves, and they're both best friends, and they're giving it their all and also there's a sunset shining behind them" sort of romantic. She loved the thrill of the fight, the sweat that beads down from giving your all, and chase and satisfaction of reaching the top.
Fourth, she really loves-
"HEY!" A voice belowed.
Zora tapped her hat up from her comfy lie down against the tree. And she JUST got comfy.
The bellowing came from a familiar face, but not one she could name. Some guy from a gang she busted a few days ago. She would've brought him in, but he was already running out the back door when she zeroed in on his boss.
"You n' me got a score to settle!"
"No, we don't." Zora put her hat back on her face. Great, now she has to get comfy again.
"Yes, we do!"
"Nuh-uh."
"WHAT YOU MEAN NUH-UH?!"
"I mean. Nuh. Uh." She grumbled loudly. "Means whatever beef you got with me goes to a different butcher. Do I look like a butcher?"
"She looks like a cowboy." A small voice said behind annoying big guy.
"Nah, I'd say she's more of a desperado." Another voice said.
"You only know that word because you watched one western movie!"
"And it was a good one!"
Maybe a movie would would help her sleep. If she was real quiet, she could sneak inside and take a nap in a comfier seat than this tree. I mean, the tree was comfy if you got in the right spot, but-
"HEY! QUIT STARIN' AT THE SKY!" He huffed. "You're being so rude! We drove all the way out here in my brand new car just so we could make you pay for putting our boss in jail!"
"Listen," Zora said after letting out a deep breath, "I'm willin to let this go for interruptin my nap. So get back in your car while you still can."
"Oh, I don't think so!" Suddenly, Zora felt a hand grab her by her poncho. Of course this loudmouth had an epithet. All loudmouths do. "I'm gonna-"
"Let go."
"Wha?"
Zora glared at him with cold, baneful eyes. "LET GO, OR ELSE."
"Or else what?" He sneered. Oh, she was so hoping he'd say that.
With a grin and an iron grip, she squeezed his hand. Slowly, it started to bulge before shrinking, smaller and smaller until all that was left was emaciated, bony hand. With a groan, he let go, wheezing as he stared at his wizened fingers.
"Wh... Wha dih you do to muh bodeh..." Losing his teeth didn't make him easier to understand, but Zora was well versed in gum linguistics.
"Or else." She said, turning away. "Enjoy the walk home, old man."
"Uh, but we drove."
"I know." Faster than anyone else could react, she whipped out her gun and fired a bullet into the engine of the car. Rust creeps as paint peels, the car slowly sinking to the ground as it's tires deflated. The glass of the car slipped free, shattering as it fell inside. "But you're walkin' now."
(REDASH - Our Hometown)
_________________________________________
20 notes · View notes
homie-one-kenobi · 10 months
Text
Careless
You weren’t a good mercenary. You were too soft, too trusting, too selfless. That might have been why the Mandalorian was drawn to you, in a sense that he felt obligated to do your job.
Pairings: Din Djarin x Reader
Words: 1.7k
Warnings: Reader Death // Typical Mercenary Work 
AO3 Link
Tumblr media
You weren’t a good mercenary. You were too soft, too trusting, too selfless. That might have been why the Mandalorian was drawn to you, in a sense that he felt obligated to do your job.
He sat in the corner at a small table, waiting for his contact to arrive. The bar is dingy, but not a complete dump. There were only two exits, only one with a door. He kept his eyes fixed on the bar guests, only momentarily glancing at the archway leading to the night air.
You stood out at the bar, your smile illuminating even the darkest corners of the room. He watched you interact with your admirers. Even the gruff bartender seemed to crack under your glow. You joke with the locals, people came up and introduced themselves to you. They were entranced.
You had a little bit too much to drink tonight, the planet’s ale a little stronger than what you were used to. But, hey, it was your day off. Your informant had said your target wouldn’t be on-planet until tomorrow. One of the very nice gentlemen offered to walk you back to your hotel, but you decline politely, claiming you could handle yourself. They plead with you to take an escort home. ‘Just in case’, they said. You playfully roll your eyes and agree to find an escort.
Your eyes land on the armored man in the corner. He had been there all evening, watching the crowd from his table. He hadn’t moved an inch since you got here, meaning he was most likely hunting a bounty. He feigned a relaxed look, but you could tell he was tense underneath all that armor. You wonder if he was looking for the same target you were.
You slide off your seat at the bar, saying farewell to your new friends before striding over to his table. He doesn’t look up at you as you approach.
“Hi! Do you mind if I sit?”
You take his unresponsiveness as an invitation and sit across from him, your elbows resting on the small table between you. You watch him as he continues to stare into the crowd, intrigued by his quiet behavior. He wore patchwork armor, reds and greens clashing together. You recognize one of his pauldrons to be from an Imperial Shoretrooper and wonder how many battles he had fought.
“Zih Sol doesn’t come in until tomorrow afternoon.”
He still doesn’t look at you but he sits up slightly straighter, the only indicator that he heard you speak. With the ale finally getting to you, you groan and wipe your face groggily. “Since you and I have the night off, would you mind escorting me back to my hotel room? The locals want to make sure I’m safe.”
Nothing.
“I know it’s a little silly, but they are worried about me… and I don’t want to worry them, so can you at least just walk me to the exit?”
Nada.
You sigh, accepting your answer before standing, albeit shakily, and trudging towards the exit. The breeze feels good on your heated face, the alcohol finally starting to wear you down. You glance over your shoulder when you feel his presence and smile softly at him, letting him walk you all the way back to the hotel.
He’s surprised when you invite him into the hotel. You don’t seem to care about the risks of this action as you continue to lead him to your room, even rummaging for your key in front of him. He counts at least 10 different times he could have incapacitated you.
It wasn’t until you had the door unlocked and had stepped inside that you turned around to face him. Your smile blinds him, throwing him off-kilter as you place a small hand on his arm, the soft touch disarming him even more.
“Thank you for walking me. Will I see you tomorrow?”
He only continues to stare down at you before disappearing down the hall, you watch his cape vanish around a corner. He didn't speak the entire night.
The Mandalorian feels paranoid. Strung up. Naked. Your careless actions shook him to his core. Or was it careless? You couldn’t have been his contact, you asked about seeing him tomorrow. He didn’t recognize you from the Guild. He ascended the ramp into his ship, a sigh escaping his lips. He remains on high alert the whole night.
He’s crouched on a rooftop a couple blocks away, macrobinoculars clutched in his hands. The pink sun rays trickle through the window of the room and illuminate your sleeping form. You left the window open all night, curtains pushed aside. You yawn and stretch, turning over to face the window, to face him. He considers if you’re testing him, seeing if he is trustworthy. The Mandalorian watches you stand and disrobe. His face feels hot as you saunter into the refresher, leaving the door open as if inviting him inside.
Another careless action.
Perfume bottles and lotions lined the dresser, indicating that you had been here for at least a couple of days, your suitcase nowhere in sight. He also doesn’t see a tracking fob.
You’re dressed in a sheer blue robe when you emerge again, hair piled high on top of your head. You open the window and wave to him, shouting to your stalker.
“Morning! Would you like some breakfast?”
He’s frozen in place, surprised you knew he was there. Maybe you were testing him. Silently, he drops from the rooftop and makes his way towards the hotel, unsure. He maps out the hotel and recalls every exit. People move aside as he passes them on the street, their fear and intrigue palpable. He’s numbering every reason he shouldn’t be going.
Yet here he is, knocking on your door.
The sunlight hits him first, blinding him slightly. He blinks a few times before resting his eyes on you.
You outshine the sun. You’ve dressed since he left, now sporting a tunic and pants, your hair in intricate twists close to your head.
“Nice to see you again! Won’t you come in?”
His conscience screams for him to leave, to drop you, to do anything else. This is dangerous. Get out.
Once he’s seated, you set a plate of biscuits in front of him. “I know you technically can’t eat in front of me, but you can take as much as you want to bring back to your ship.”
You can see the wheels in his head turning. “I looked you up last night. You’re Mandalorian, right?” You sit across from him, making yourself a plate. At his continued silence, you glance at him. “You know, if you’re going to be my partner, you’re going to have to speak to me at some point.”
The Mandalorian abruptly stands, knocking over a glass in the process, and heads for the door. A gentle hand stops him. He lets it.
“Look at me.”
How do you do that, how do you make him blindly follow orders? He knows better, acts better , than this. He’s tracked and hunted women before, he’s even partnered with a few hunters that were women. He’s killed.
“I just thought we could split the bounty, you know? I’m assuming your contact never showed up, but I have all the intel we could need. She’ll be flying in around 1200 hours. She’s meeting me at the port, thinking that I’m a past friend. My client prefers dead,” you add, searching his hidden face for any indication of rejection, “so this should be a fairly easy bounty.”
The Mandalorian was mesmerized. You talked shop like it was a leisurely walk in the park. And you trusted him completely; you gave him everything you had without batting an eye. Your hands trailed up his arms. No one has touched him that way since he was a child, but he didn’t feel comforted by it. Instead it set his skin on fire as if the layers of armor had been stripped away.
Then you were both at the airport. He stood as your bodyguard, as a disguise and as a job. You greeted their target like an old friend, chattering excitedly with her, an arm wrapped around her shoulders as you lead her to a secluded restroom. You return alone, a large case rolling behind you. He takes the suitcase from you and leads you towards his ship on the outskirts of the city. You whistle in appreciation as you approach. Unexpected pride swells in him as you admire his transport.
The Mandalorian didn’t see it coming. He was always so observant.
Your selflessness got in the way, pushing him behind you as you took a shot at the other Bounty Hunter.
The Mandaloran dragged you onto his ship, the wound in your chest still burning your flesh. Once behind a wall he collapses to his knees, still holding you in his arms. You’re trying to breathe, your face contorted in excruciating pain. You cling to him like a lifeline. He doesn’t know what to do, the wound is too deep and they can’t go to a hospital.
You’re breathing is getting weaker and some tears escape your eyes.
Beautiful. He didn’t understand what that word meant until he met you. You had turned him inside out without a second thought, without a second glance. You had bewitched him, he fell into your web just like their bounty did. He doesn’t know if he got out alive either.
The blood that escapes your lips draws him back to reality. You were dying. He would be free from your web, but he dreaded freedom from your captivity.
You grab his shaking hand, looking up into his helmet. “Talk to me, please. I want to hear you before I…”
He doesn’t know what to say. He pulls your form closer to him, struggling to say something, anything, to please you. He gently cups your face.
“You are… too careless.” His voice cracks. He doesn’t care.
You’re slowly blinking out of consciousness. He prays that you heard him as he rests his forehead against yours, gently stroking your face with his gloved hand.
Your voice barely registers with his helmet. “Beautiful… thank…”
The Mandalorian was free.
37 notes · View notes
susanaesono · 5 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
TAKE A MOMENT!!! Appreciate The Simple THINGS!!!
7 notes · View notes
howifeltabouthim · 1 year
Quote
He does whatever he wants, it's fun for him, he doesn't care.
Katherine Arden, from Empty Smiles
100 notes · View notes
wordsbyjenpoetry · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
There is nothing worse than realising too late what you could have done better. Being carelessly complacent gives the opportunity for loss. Never take what truly matters to you for granted. Because regret is a heavy burden to carry.
31 notes · View notes
wiirocku · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
Matthew 12:36-37 (ESV) - I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.”
110 notes · View notes
thenighteternal · 9 months
Text
Drab Majesty - Unknown To The I
17 notes · View notes
guerrilla-operator · 6 months
Text
The Replacements // Careless
Plan tomorrow, money to borrow I'm careless, careless Couldn't care less, careless I'm careless, careless That's the way I stay
11 notes · View notes
awesomecooperlove · 4 months
Text
🟡🟡🟡Let's try to imagine for a few minutes, a world in reverse.
Illustrations by Steve Cutts Video by Sushil.🟠🟠🟠
🔴🔴🔴
7 notes · View notes
random-xpressions · 7 months
Text
Human heart is the most brittle of what could be broken. Perhaps just a word that leaves the mouth could shatter someone for the rest of their life. Be careful lest you break someone unintendedly from which they cannot ever recover in a lifetime. The bitter paradoxical truth remains that none can hurt us as much as our own loved & dearest ones...
Random Xpressions
11 notes · View notes
thethaghoro · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Ops! 👀🔥🔥🔥
84 notes · View notes
hauntedandwholesome · 6 months
Text
Careless with a purpose.
Intentionally
Lackadaisical with danger
In hopes that one day
The danger will destroy me.
Tumblr media
8 notes · View notes
susanaesono · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
M'Bolo: Hello ❤️❤️🌊🌴❤️
8 notes · View notes
howifeltabouthim · 2 years
Quote
You only care about losing face, not about the harm that you do, not about things that matter.
Iris Murdoch, from The Philosopher’s Pupil
49 notes · View notes