protests in LA against unlawful deportations being called an insurrection after one single day of unrest. martial law is next. the playbook is not hard to read.
i’m trying to flirt with this noblewoman but she keeps asking me to demonstrate my flawless sword technique and i don’t think she realizes how much effort i’m putting in to make my tits bounce while doing so
convincing this wandering swordmaster (loser, woman) to keep demonstrating her flawless technique to cleave a man from his life for me because her tits bounce really lewdly whenever she does it and she hasn’t noticed yet
when i was a young woman on tumvlr ten years ago everybody liked american football, tigers jaw, ajj, and teen suicide. and we all had a little tin plate with a candle on it, and we needed to be careful not to let the candle go out because we needed it to read the posts. one time a mutual told me they were scared of their candle going out while their phone was charging at night. the dashboard didn’t have the overhead fluorescent lights yet. and we had fan mail, and we liked that comic where the girl is a possum. and the stock market crash hadn’t happened yet. i made a lot of money selling my tunblr stocks and i bought a boat. i would take the boat out to sea and lie down on the deck and go on tumbr and answer fan mail, but i had to use the candle to read the fan mail, because we didn’t have lights yet. it was very dark back then, and one time i fell into the gap between two posts and twisted my ankle. and some people liked elvis depressedly, also, but i can’t say that i was one of them.
I’ve been tinkering with the idea of an urban fantasy “All Fairy Tales Are True” setting where some fairy tale characters are mortals who reincarnate and live through their story again and again with no memory of their past lives, but other characters are immortal, carrying over biases and grudges and regrets from the last time they went through this.
Snow White’s dwarves keep her room exactly as she left it, and keep a wary eye on the horizon for the day she returns. When she does they treat her like a beloved daughter come home, cook her favourite meals, warn her to stay away from apples this time, and keep calling her the wrong name.
Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother found her a touch ungrateful last time, and has decided not to appear to her this time around to teach her a lesson in gratitude. This Cinderella, without the memory of the last time, is still a terrified, miserable woman desperate to escape her awful situation.
The Witch in the gingerbread house has developed a thousand traps to eat those goddamned kids. She’s failed every time. She lives a life of Sisyphean torment previously known only to cartoon coyotes.
my most toxic trait is i fucking love work gossip. i play neutral not to be the bigger person or take the high road but to hear slander and hearsay from every side. two coworkers complained about each other to me in the same afternoon and i nearly blacked out from the rush
