#you absolute meme <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[waitineedaname]

I've received a sudden influx of followers because of an entirely unrelated textpost from several years ago, which means all of you legally have to read my current interest in order to understand my blog. ooooh you wanna read scum villain's self-saving system so bad (Anna's archive link since the internet archive is down)

some quotes to further persuade you:

also read my fanfiction. hi.

[wthtorke]

TAVS COME AND GET YALL JUICE

"Show me your wares thirsty fics" (Click.)

[daredevils-advocate]

✨Good timezone everyone!✨

[mika-you-nerd]

Duality of man

Trust me I am super normal about this guy

[notmygamertag]

Me (an asexual) when there's actual sex in my sex scene:

I want more of whatever the fuck this is:

Absolute nonsense

[hamofjustice]

nemona feels like an obscure blorbo instead of the main rival character from the latest pokemon game because to get to her really good content from people who really get it, you first have to wade through the ocean of yandere pervert obsessive stalker annoying punchable bimbo amazon goddess interpretations of...

... a neurodivergent and possibly disabled high schooler who's desperately trying to make any friends or get any support from her rich neglectful family - while everyone in her school is jealous of their own imagined version of a privileged asshole version of her they made up - who deeply and platonically loves and supports the one new kid who agreed to take the time to get to know and respect her and her special interest without having to hold back her true self

unlike her, it's not great!

kinda feels like she has the same problem in our world that she does in hers.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

The way people here celebrate the ides of march kind of has a reminiscent energy as purim, which I think highlights an important aspect of the human condition. In this essay

[avalon-knightly]

[reactionimagesdaily]

[the-magpie-archives]

I like to think that outside of the archives Elias was known only as the silly, overenthusiastic, eccentric boss who enjoys paperwork way too much. Realistically he was equally feared by everyone but it makes the idea of Tim trying to expose the whole plot a lot funnier.

"Elias is evil and hes masterminding a terrible plan and if we don't stop him we'll all end up dead!"

"Elias....? Like, Elias Bouchard? The guy who religiously does his paperwork on the same day every week... The guy who once sat me down to ask if that weird plant in the hall was freaking me out?"

[ssruis]

This is how they’re gonna surpass rad weekend

[sophfandoms53]

It cannot be understated just how unwell Striker has made me since December 2021, this goofy sadistic snake cowboy has completely altered my brain chemistry in a way that I have never been able to recover from

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @thedarkstrategist from this meme: Shadowzel, “You know better than most the pain a lie can inflict.” 

-----

Shadowheart lies on her back in her tent, staring up at the dark fabric backlit by the moon hanging low over Rivington, and broods.

You’re being stupid, she tells herself firmly. Lae’zel has her own concerns. She doesn’t owe you her company every night.

Which is, of course, perfectly true. But it doesn’t change the fact that Shadowheart got used to it, out there in the Shadowlands. It became habit, every night, to see Lae’zel crawling through her tent flap, to expend the day’s frustration and tension in a blaze of heat. To fall asleep with Lae’zel’s warmth cuddled against her side, the “soft touch” that it had taken the gith so much courage to ask for and Shadowheart just as much courage to offer.

And ever since the Shadowfell, since Shar’s torment and Aylin’s revelations, Shadowheart has been so terribly, terribly cold. Lae’zel’s warmth saved her on the road to Baldur’s Gate, more than Shadowheart has ever articulated aloud.

And now it’s gone. It’s been three days since Lae’zel came to her, and Shadowheart feels the loss as keenly as if her heart has been torn out.

What is wrong with you? she chastises herself. You’re stronger than this.

But she isn’t, it seems. Not anymore. Not with the loss of her faith, the torment she has suffered. Not with how terribly lonely the world is, with her sense of purpose ripped away. Not without Lae’zel.

She grunts irritably and sits up, crawling out into the open air.

Lae’zel is sitting by her own tent, cross-legged. She has a dagger out in one hand and is turning it carefully in the moonlight, examining the keenness of its edge. Her catlike eyes are narrowed with intense focus and she does not look up as Shadowheart approaches, but she does speak all the same. “What is it, Shadowheart?”

Shadowheart resists the urge to fidget her weight from foot to foot. Lae’zel’s voice sounds oddly flat, without any of her usual energy and heat. That has been the case for several days as well, and really it’s even more troubling than Shadowheart’s own selfish desires. 

“I was going to ask you the same question,” she says carefully. Pressing Lae’zel when she’s in a snit is often akin to poking an injured bear with a stick - but she isn’t sure that’s even what’s really going on here. This isn’t anger; it’s just an air of general disinterest, which is far more unnerving from the gith’s usual fiery personality. “Another night you haven’t come to bed. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” Lae’zel draws the edge of the blade experimentally along her fingertips and nods in satisfaction to feel its sharpness. A pause, then she looks up and studies Shadowheart’s face intently. “Why should it be?”

The direct question feels extremely unfair. Neither of them have ever been good at articulating their feelings out loud, and Lae’zel knows this about Shadowheart. It is one of the things that binds them together, those feelings that exist without words. “Since when am I the one who has to explain these things?” Shadowheart says moodily, automatically slipping into the usual bickering banter that characterizes most of their conversation.

But again, Lae’zel doesn’t rise to it, just watches her unblinking. “Tell me,” she says coolly.

Shadowheart frowns. “Well,” she says unsteadily, thrown off by the irregular rhythm of the conversation. “You’ve been quiet lately. I’ve barely seen you for three days, even at night. You don’t want to talk.” A pause. “Is it because of Vlaakith’s little invasion into our camp?”

Lae’zel cocks her head to one side. “Vlaakith,” she says thoughtfully, more to herself than to Shadowheart. “Yes. Of course.”

Shadowheart stiffens. “Of course?” she says hotly. “How can it be of course when you won’t talk to me?” Her lips purse, and then she voices the fear sitting at the back of all these thoughts. “Did I do something, Lae’zel? What is this about? Don’t just… pretend like everything is normal, not to me.” A pause. She swallows, looks down and away. “You of all people know the pain a lie can inflict,” she mutters. “Don’t toy with me, Lae’zel. If something’s wrong… I need you to tell me.”

Silence. She looks up cautiously and finds that Lae’zel has stopped looking at her. Her attention is back on the blade she’s examining, utterly unmoved by this heartfelt plea. And something in Shadowheart’s chest seems to twist painfully at this lack of response.

“Damn you,” she mutters. “I don’t ask for much. But I thought we-- I thought you--” She stops; her voice is dangerously on the edge of cracking. She was so much stronger than this, once, but in the wake of all her recent torment, it is too much.

“Look at me, damn it!” she snaps. 

She lashes out with one hand, grabbing for the dagger that has occupied all of Lae’zel’s attention. It’s an awkward motion without forethought, and she fumbles it. In twisting the blade away, she scores its needle-sharp edge along the back of Lae’zel’s hand.

The cut is crisp and clean, and silver-white blood wells up to pool on Lae’zel’s skin.

Shadowheart freezes, her fingers going white-knuckled on the hilt of the dagger. She has seen Lae’zel’s blood before, all too many times. She has seen it painted on enemy blades and across her own hands in healing afterwards. It is not silver, but a deep ruby red that is almost black.

Shadowheart’s blood runs cold. Oh. Oh… shit. 

She darts backwards a step, lifting the blade point-first towards the thing she thought was Lae’zel. “You bitch,” she snaps. “What have you done with her?”

Orin smiles slowly with Lae’zel’s face. “A quick eye the Sharran has,” she murmurs. “Perhaps I should pluck it out… trail the blood down your pretty face…” Her head twists, Lae’zel’s form dripping off of her to reveal the pale face and blank white eyes underneath. Only the smile remains the same, unchanging as her form shifts. 

“What fun it is to watch you wriggle, wondering, worrying… but no, fear not, little worm, for your precious pet’s guts do not paint the ground… yet.” The changeling giggles excitedly. “She would die too easily; the Murder Lord craves a sweeter meal.” 

Her smile twists, almost impossibly wide on her face and full of gleeful malice. “If you would have her still gasp out her mewling breaths, then other blood must be spilled to buy her. We have much to talk about, you and I.”

[fisheito]

hiya l'il-- medium?...large?? Assorted Sizes-Guy

oh thanks! i could always use more spices-

. what am i supposed to do with this.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

never underestimate the power and joy in thinking about your own Guys doing normal people things. my brain is awash with delight

[black-and-yellow]

wish i was a little bit taller wish i was a baller 💀