#imaginable

[an0mal1es]

gettjng weirdly into announcers and ruining the function by dropping every piece of lore you know about the play by play man working whatever game you're watching (no one cares)

[wellthebardsdead]

Falûne: *a young white haired, pale blue tiefling cleric to Selune. Left the safety of his home to venture to what is now the blighted village to study at the temple to his goddess, only to get kidnapped, wake up on a ship to a mind flayer in his face, a tadpole crawling into his eye, then pass out and wake up again to see the very hells themselves as a dragon and alien frog people attack said ship. Only to then crash land, wake up on a beach with no clue where he is and then find himself travelling with a sharren who wants him dead, a Githyanki who he thinks wants to eat him after her insistence on ‘tasting him’, a high elf vampire who absolutely wants to eat him, a wizard with a bomb In his chest he found in a wall, a tiefling that’s on fire all the time, a runaway noble with a devil sugar mommy, a druid he’s terrified of because he’s afraid of bears, and a brainwashed drow tailing after them all… Now quietly sitting at a table surrounded by other tieflings and his companions alike, covered in filth, robes torn, hair singed and his faith rocked to its limits after blowing up the desecrated temple to his goddess to kill a bunch of goblins… and now living with a stone eye after naively trusting a blustering oaf with an ice pick* …

Wyll: hey there, you good buddy? Here why don’t you have some wine? *pours him a small cup* you look like you n-

Falûne: I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE! *grabs the whole bottle from him and starts downing it in one go*

Karlach: *trying to get it off of him* WYLL GRAB HIS ARMS! LAE’ZEL HELP!!!

[fairyhagmother]

trying to sign in to my m&s account and it won’t accept the Irish spelling of my name and then keeps passive aggressively suggesting I switch to the Irish website..feeling. hatecrimed….

[salty-lemonss]

TALLULAH SHORT ANIMATIC 🌸

@qsmparchive

[winepresswrath]

is it that twitter is an inherently Bad place full of terrible takes OR is it that the algorithm makes it impossible to avoid other people’s terrible opinions because my third cousin liked a dumbass last Tuesday. Maybe both. Who can say.

[confusedfeelsbutokay]

“I have my own Fear.”

It was an ordinary Monday morning, and I woke up sweating since it’s a hot day like any other day. It’s totally bare months, but why is it so hot in the morning. So I started thinking that this day would not get normal.

I fixed my bed, and head out to the shower room, usual morning routine, I take a bath 30 mins and, eat, then fix my make up, then we ready to go. Monday Morning, that was set to be the most difficult day of my life. I am ready, but still mentally tired.

A classroom filled with laughter and an avoidable sense of a feeling called anxiety has started to work through-out my brain and my body at the same time. It's normal. It's not normal. My mood swing starts and I easily get too annoyed anywhere around me. This has gotten too worrisome that I would explode anytime soon.

I chatted and tell jokes to my friends so they wouldn't notice the feeling of fear. There isn't much anytime left to go through this since I couldn't get around through it, it was much tougher than I thought it would be. I sense people staring at me, "Maybe because I look weird, is it my make up? Do I look intense? What? Where?." STOP!

I live with a goal every single day, that I would let out a smile whenever I walk pass around them and, greet with unbelievable optimism. Instead, all I did was the opposite, everything is the opposite, I was fake to them, and so they were.

The fear is back, on which I sense unexpectedly.

I keep telling myself, to just stop smiling, since it was so fake that they start talking behind your back. You know that stupid

I fear abandonment, I fear social interaction, I fear myself.

[forfuntheywrote]

"More of the same." This was the answer he gave, while rowing a boat, to the question "What do you wish for?" To me, a young teen, this was preposterous. I stared. Not one other person in the boat, and perhaps there were six of us, all of us, would have said that, would ever say that, could say that now. It was as if he knew he would not have it. But while more of the same seemed the most humble, self-effacing and undemanding of requests, it was, of course, the most extravagant wish imaginable, the most impossible.  ... The baby laughs at rhythm. I learned this when at five I made my sister laugh by pretending, repeatedly, to sneeze. It was not the sneeze but the repetition. They hear it, they expect it, and when it comes again, it's funny. (The and!) Pleasure in repetition. This is laughter at "more of the same." As if even the infant knows this is a pure dream

Julie Carr, from Objects From a Borrowed Confession