CASUAL SADIST

urrone

charlataninred

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

meraarts

Might I add:

The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how they’d be to be executed

The woman who raised the changeling alongside her biological child

The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship

eater-of-hopes-and-dreams

The adventures of a space roomba

Cinderella finding Araura (and falling in love)

I don’t know a snappy description but the my nemesis cynthia story certainly lives in my head

blitzlowin

hilariously, these are almost all in my fic tag. so, a compiled list from the notes (and some extras):

charlataninred

I am in love with you /p

inkvoices

Adding Faceblind Prince Charming and Cinderella

inkvoices

21. The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship

22. The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how they’d be to be executed

lightningladybug

adding the Doctors Without Borders one

inkvoices

I LOVE tumblr storytime, so here’s a bunch more your weekend reading. Enjoy!

24. The Queen with Three Cursed Children

25. Tiny Dragon with one coin hoard

26. Haunted house

27. Shark hero was about to go rogue

28. Grandma lives in the woods comic

29. A Different Aftermath comic

30. Battery (microstory but I love it so much)

31. It’s A Date comic

32. Supervillian kidnaps rival’s kid and they want to stay

33. Narrative Town

34. I have been hired to clean the wizard tower comic

35. Robot Apocalypse

36. The Statues That Do Not Weather

37. Kushiel

38. Tooth Fairy

39. Alien abduction

40. Felonious wish-granting

41. When humans met actual space orcs

42. Space cousins

dannnnnnnnnnnnex

WAIT REBLOG THIS VERSION INSTEAD

Pinned Post

alt-ernativewonderland

fall out boy played coffee's for closers for the first time since '09 and mikey fuckin' way played saturday with them

mywinona

just got out of Fall Out Boy's chula vista show and I cannot believe Mikey Way came out and covered bass for Pete while he was in the crowd during Saturday

hold on wait i need a minute or several minutes fall out boy mikey way pete wentz

everythingfox

Cronchy

C R O N C H

sherlock-is-ace

onigatito

w00dland-trash

@belle-ofthebrawl 🥸

espn8-the-ocho-dahmersaur

Meowsieur Purroit

explorerrowan

You can tell in his eyes that he's working those little gray cells pretty fucking hard. All two of them.

Source: instagram.com

smeagles

tiktaalic

European: Americans will be like I’m going to watch a whore movie and eat a hamburger slathered in lard

Americans: it’s true I do do this.

American: British people will be like alright I’m off to eat some wheezy bangers (beans and bread out of a can)

Brit: I’ve seen this reblogged by several people I normally trust so: How mocking British cuisine and dialect has a long classist history and how it became frighteningly normalized on an American (uniquely cruel, uniquely ignorant) internet: a thread. 1/?

papasmoke

soberscientistlife

Excellent Point

feuervogel

[ID: an unsourced paragraph of text that reads: Reflecting on it, the reason I think the OceanGate situation has become such a flashpoint for anger is because it's such a perfect microcosm of the problem with everything right now. Decisions are not made based on safety, reasonable caution, or concern for human life. Every decision is instead made from a default assumption of what if the bad thing just DIDN'T happen? We are given pie-in-the-sky promises and sizzle reels and an endless PR hype-cycle for every new innovation and inevitably fails to work, harms people, and them is maybe barely apologized for before the next bad idea comes down the pike. OceanGate's underengineered, undercooked, doomed submarine isn't merely a metaphor for the hubris of the wealthy, it is a scale model of the way the wealthy dictate our reality. All consequences can be ignored, all blowback can be forestalled, let the end-user eat the cost. I am not angry because the submarine was badly made. I am angry because I live in a vastly larger pressure vessel being managed and maintained by the exact same people. /end ID]

ifishouldvanish

sweatandwoe

please my fandom, it's very sick, it needs media literacy, please

advanced-pr0crastinati0n

writing-prompt-s

Humanity has finally reached the stars and found out why no one had contacted us. The universe is in a sad state. As such, Doctors without Borders, Red Cross, and many othe charities go intergalactic.

lyricwritesprose

The thing the recruiters don’t tell you about space battles is that you die slowly.

Ships don’t blow up cleanly in flashes and sparks. Oh, if you’re in the engine room, you’ll probably die instantly, but away from that? In the computer core, or the communications hub? You just lose power. And have to sit, air going stale and room slowly cooling, while you wait to find out if the battle is won or lost.

If it’s lost, nobody comes for you.

It had been about half a day (that’s a Raithar day, probably a bit shorter than yours) and Kvala and I were pretty sure we had lost. Kvala was injured, Traav and I were dehydrated and exhausted, and Louv was dead, hit by shrapnel when the conduits blew.

Most fleets give you something, of course. For Raithari, it’s essence of windgrass. I looked at the vial.

“It’s too soon,” Traav said.

Kvala gestured negation, shakily. She had been burned when conduits blew, and her feathers were charred, and her leftmost eye was bubbly and blind now. Even if we were rescued, she probably wouldn’t survive. “You know we’re losing the war.”

They couldn’t deny that. “It doesn’t mean we lost the battle.”

“Doesn’t it? The Chreee have better technology. Better resources. And they have their warrior code. They don’t care if they die.”

“We can’t give up!” Traav protested. They were young, a young and reckless thar who had listened to a recruiting officer and still believed scraps of what they had been told. “Any heartbeat now—”

There was a clunk. Something had docked with our fragment of the ship.

“You see?!” Traav crowed triumphantly.

Kvala exchanged glances with me. The Chreee never bothered to hunt down survivors. What was the point, after all?

The Aushkune did.

There weren’t supposed to be Aushkune here. They were supposed to hide in nebulas.

But if there were—

If there were, we were too late. The windgrass couldn’t possibly destroy our nervous systems in time to stop the corpse-reviving implants, and once you were implanted, it was over—or it would never be over, depending on how you looked at it and whether Aushkune drones were aware of anything—

Footsteps.

Bipedal. The Aushkune were supposed to be bipedal.

And then the blast door opened, and a figure stood in it. My first thought was, robot? That’s almost worse than Aushkune . . . But no, it was a being in some sort of suit.

Who wore suits?

“Friendly contact,” the suit’s sound system blared, as the being moved over to Kvala. “Urgent treatment. Evacuation.”

“Who are you?” Kvala struggled upright.

Despite the primitive suit, the blocky being was using up-to-date medical scanners. “Low frequency right angle shape,” it explained—or maybe didn’t explain. Two more figures came into the room and put Kvala firmly onto a stretcher.

“You’re with the Chreee, aren’t you?” Kvala was not at all happy to be on a stretcher.

“Not Chreee,” the sound system said. “You Man. Soil Starship Nichols.” The being hesitated. “Rescue Chreee as well. On ship. Will separate.”

“You what?” I said faintly. Who would do that?

“Oath,” the being explained.

“What kind of oath? To what deity?”

The shoulders of the being moved up and down. “Several different. Also none. For me, none. Just—oath.”

I exchanged glances with Traav, who looked as unsettled as I was. I had never, ever heard of groups cooperating when they couldn’t even swear to or by the same power.

The being scanned me. “Have water,” it said. “Recommend.”

Raithari have fast metabolisms. I could—would—die of thirst quickly, and painfully.

“Where will you take us,” Traav asked, “after you give us water?”

“Raithari to Raithar. Chreee to Chreeeholm.”

“Chreeeholm would kill them for failing,” Traav remarked.

The being hesitated, and then said, “War news sometimes bad. Sometimes lie.”

We had learned long ago not to believe the recruiting officers, but what did that have to do with anything?

“And you—what?” I asked. “Just fly around looking for battles and rescuing victims?”

The being seemed to consider this. “Best invention of soil,” it said finally.

Most of what it was saying didn’t make any sense. Did it worship soil? But it had said that it had sworn to no deity . . .

Madness.

On the other hand—war was a deliberate, rational act by deliberate, rational people, and I wanted no more of it. So why not embrace madness and see what happened?

“Soil Starship—Rrikkol?” I asked, stumbling over the word.

“Yes. Soil Starship Nichols.”

I followed the being in the suit.