REMEMBER THAT POST WITH CINDERELLA WHERE HER DRESS CHANGES TO THE COLOR OF YOUR BLOG?

THIS ONE DOES IT TOO!!

I found a bunch more!!

x

This. is. so. COOL

If this doesn’t work I’m going to cry.

it’S back!

What

why

Just reblogging to see if the last one is true

Wait- what? 🤣

Edit: OH WAIT NO I DIDN’T THINK IT’D GENUINELY WORK OMG- (tap on the images to see it after reblogging 🤪)

i’m only here for the last one-

the last one is the only reason im reblogging

Runt: l-lets see

Hmm

Yes

For the funny one.

Someone tell me how this works pleasseeeeee

After reblogging click on the picture, the colour changes

Yuh

THIS IS A LAH

edit: NO IM LYING THIS DOES WORK

@hellsite-hall-of-fame @worldheritagepostorganization

is this the ORIGINAL?!???

oh holy shit i didn’t even know where this meme came from

OH MY ACTUAL GOD THE ORIGINAL

ORIGINALS ON THE ROLL

This is sacred ground.

apparently the same guy also made this meme too

He did!!! No one ever realises it’s the same guy.

Is there a word that’s a mix between angry and sad

malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolated

smad.

there are two types of people

i’ve only seen this legendary post in screenshots

It’s always so cool when you find these legendary posts and the OPs are not deactivated. It’s like, the gods still walk among us.

for april fools we’re deleting this entire site sayonara you weeaboo shits

Tagged by @mj-iza-writer , thanks!

Imma just tag some random blogs I follow <3

@sickiehugs @dainluvr @roblingoblin285 @sunnynwanda @saraswritingtipps @shibara @whumblr @wh3nturtlesfly @oprhan @dappermouth

Of course, no obligation and no pressure :]

I was tagged by @written-by-jayy. Thank you for the tag! :)

Rules: Tag 10 or more people you want to get to know better.

I'm tagging a few but I would love to see everyone do this :) Feel free to ignore it if you're not interested, that's totally fine too.

@worldsfromhoney @marvellousdaisy @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @surplus-of-sarcasm @thatneptune @aflyingsheepnamedrose @adamsloverboy @villain-life @qualityrabbitsoup

I was tagged by @sunnynwanda thank you!

•Relationship status: single... as an eagle always is.

•Favorite color: blue or yellow.

•Song stuck in head: Tam gde my s toboy -rauf and faik

•Favorite food: burger?! Idk I'm not picky.

•Last song listened to: you put a spell on me -VOILÀ

•Dream trip: Moscow! (In summer of course)

•Last show/movie: the edge of tomorrow

•Spicy, sweet or savory: COFFEE your honor

•Last thing googled: the auction by lovesbitca8

I'm tagging people (mostly) at random. I don't really know many blogs since I'm sorta new to tumblr but I'd rely like to see your answers!♡

Tags: @save-the-villainous-cat @epiclamer @cinnamonsketchdust @girl-with-the-empty-skull @jurdanhell @hollyblack @judejudejudejudejudejudejudejude @crimson-spine @inejghafa @raineandsky

Thank you for the tag!

Relationship status: happily married to dating my boyfriend

Favorite colour: blue!

Song stuck in head: Partyopfer - SXTN

Favorite food: Lasagna hihihihi

Last song listened to: Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus

Dream trip: Vvvvvvvvancouver

Last show/movie: Bullet Train (2022)

Spicy, sweet, or savory?: sweet :)

Last thing googled:  ὠφέλιμος

@thepenultimateword @creweemmaeec11 @avvail @whumpasaurus101 @some-messed-up-writing-for-you (I missed you!) @nuttynutcycle @suspicious-whumping-egg

Thanks for the tag from forever ago!

Relationship status: Engaged!!!

Favorite colour: Red

Song stuck in head: 'Eight' by Sleeping at Last

Favorite food: Chocolate chip cookies ;)

Last song listened to: Give Me a Kiss by Crash Adams

Dream trip: Been to 13 countries already, so I need to find a new dream trip! Maybe Japan?

Last show/movie: Brewster's Millions

Spicy, sweet, or savory?: Sweet!!

Last thing googled: Canada RRSP vs TFSA

@sunflower1000 @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room @amethystpath-writes @yourheartonfire @booberryfun

“You shouldn’t have pressed,” his partner said. “I told you not to start investigating, didn’t I?” 

The detective stared, dumbfounded for the first time. His partner- not his partner anymore, was he?- smiled, pushing off the wall, striding over to the detective. 

He laughed. “As much as it annoys me, all this might’ve been worth it just to see that look.” “The- the first body,” the detective said. “Phillibert. It wasn’t about the money, was it?”

“It wasn’t about the money,” his partner confirmed. “You never really thought it was.”

“The second murder-”

“Clever touch, right?” his partner shrugged. “To be honest-” He winked when he said those words- “that one wasn’t me. Not personally. I was busy keeping a nosy little detective out of the way.” 

The detective swallowed hard. That was the night they’d been attacked in that alley together. The night his partner had helped him back home, given him a drink and tended his bloodied face and hands. They hadn’t argued about the case, for once. He thought that had meant something. 

Evidently it had. 

“When did you turn?” It wasn’t what he wanted to ask. 

His partner scoffed. “Turn. Please. There wasn’t any turn at all- I haven’t changed. I was never as optimistic as you.” 

“You wouldn’t have done this ten years ago.” 

“I didn’t have the opportunity ten years ago.” He took a few steps closer to the detective. “But I would have taken it if I had. The world is an unfair game. Sometimes you have to cheat to win.” 

★This is a prompt fill for @nuttynutcycle's amazing Prompt 404, full credit to her for this idea.

Original Prompt

-continuation starts here-

TW: Implied past abuse, scars, choking, suicidal ideation

"Stop," Hero breathed out, looking everywhere but at their nemesis.

They let out a cold, shrill cackle, or at least, an attempt at one, throat so dry, it sounded more like a strangled cough. "Stop? Come on, you know me better than that, Hero," they purred, the voice grating against the crime-fighter's eardrums.

It had taken them so long to be able to stop hearing their once-torturer's voice ringing in their ears, its hold so mercilessly powerful on them, it had managed to escape their nightmares. For some time, the words 'auditory hallucinations' had seemed so fake, part of a poorly fabricated illusion.

They didn't even know how they were standing here, why they'd accepted. It's not like Superhero had forced them. But it was easier said than done. Nowhere near as terrifying as being face-to face with them. So much so that the bars between them seemed pointless, half-invisible to the hero.

"Come here to have a go at me too? I'm quite popular amongst some of the members of your agency, it's about time you of all people showed up here." The villain may have been smiling as they said it, tone laced with cold, indifferent amusement, but their eyes told a different tale, the look in them practically screaming broken and exhausted.

Hero wanted to retch at how disturbed they were by the criminal's state. "Fragile," they'd called them, back when they spent their days waking up to a boot pressed into their chest, continuously mocking their empathy as an attribute only possessed by the weak and foolish.

Right now, their old enemy was trying to hold on to whatever shreds of their pride they had left, by way of tormenting the crime-fighter, who by all other means had the upper hand here.

"No," the crime-stopper answered, appalled. In spite of the clear disgust in their tone, they weren't really sure if they'd meant it with all their being, as their gaze flitted over to an old, jagged scar, in an unappealing, dusty shade of pink on their left forearm, revealed as the sleeve of their somewhat baggy sweatshirt fell lower against their arm. They pulled it back again, a force of habit, worrying their bottom lip between their teeth.

The second they'd managed to escape, they hadn't wanted anything more than to rip them to shreds, to make them suffer what they'd done to them tenfold. The hero had scratched at the skin of their wrists and screamed their throat raw, even in the safety of their own bed, wishing to tear the villain's world apart, brick by brick as though it was a building.

Seeing them like this, it should've felt cathartic. It should've brought the hero some sort of twisted satisfaction that their tormentor was getting a taste of their own medicine, maybe even worse.

But all they felt was a cold, mind-numbing emptiness, a disturbance that settled at the pit of their stomach and twisted it into knots. If they searched hard enough, they'd swear that they even felt a pang of sympathy for the shadow of their once all-powerful tormentor.

"Of course not," Villain drawled lazily, staring at the crime-stopper with a chilling mix of amusement and contempt, horribly reminiscent of their past self. The criminal got up, stretching their limbs casually, moving as far as the chains would let them. They stared down at chipped, broken nails with an impossible amount of blood and dirt accumulated underneath them. Before, the villain had always looked immaculate, but instead of kohl underneath the cruel, icy blue eyes, there was an ugly trail of bruises and crusty blood mixed with dead skin.

But even looking like the personification of death, the villain still managed to be spiteful. "Nothing could make you lose that foolish weakness of yours, Hero. You'll always be a goddamn bleeding heart, too bloody nice and pathetic to deal any real damage. Don't you have any dignity?" they spat, and they sounded genuinely frustrated, their eyes narrowing, the most emotion they'd displayed since the crime-stopper had entered their cell.

Hero didn't know exactly when their hands had twisted the key into the lock, when they'd raced into the cell, slamming the villain into the wall with an audible thud, the force drawing a sharp gasp from their adversary's throat. They weren't sure when their fingers had clawed at the criminal's throat, keeping a vice-like grip on their neck, their nails digging deep into the already damaged skin. It was almost as though their rage had possessed them, coursing through their veins like poison, speeading heat through their body like wildfire.

"Oh, you think that it's hard for me to hurt you? You think that I haven't dreamed of the day where I put you through hell? Show you how it feels like? There were times when all I could think of was how much I wanted your blood on my hands, how much I wanted you dead!" they snarled.

For the first time, true, unabashed fear had flashed across Villain's features, eyes wide, their lip quivering as they choked in the hero's grip. But the bastard smiled at them, trying so desperately hard to be sharp and taunting. Instead, it was weak, full of pain, as every muscle of their face twitched and struggled to keep it up. Tears streamed down their face instead, and the hero slightly loosened their hold on their throat.

"Do it. Kill me how you've always wanted to, Hero." The villain's voice had only ever been smug, full of power and entirely lacking emotion. All it was now was soft and broken.

Whatever had taken over the hero faded as they removed their fingers from their neck, their mismatched eyes softening. They involuntarily winced at the bruises and bloodied scratches left on their neck.

Even through all their cruelty, the villain had been more merciful to the hero than the criminal's current tormentors were to them. They'd let the hero eat, not that they really had the apetite, gave them the basic rights of showering and clothes. Sometimes, they didn't even hurt the hero, usually when they felt they'd had enough. It was agitating to think of their once-captor's virtues, but the hero wasn't one to deny the truth.

Except here, the villain was clearly starved, their face gaunt, cheeks sunken, and the tatters they had for clothes hung loosely off their emaciated frame. Their body was covered in numerous scratches, deep and barely healing, some even clearly infected.

"I came here for closure. But now, I'm going to get you out of here." Maybe the villain deserved some sort of reckoning for what they did, but not like this. Not remorseless torture that left them wishing they were dead.

Villain's eyes widened as they held their breath as the hero began unlocking their chains. "This isn't legal," they murmured.

"Like I give a damn," the hero replied tersely. The villain had become so frail that they had to lean on the hero all the way.

Hero's eyes flitted over to Villain's cell one last time, contemplating again whether they should just let them rot and get their revenge, but their compassion overrid any of their darker thoughts. Empathy, they realised, was not a weakness. It is what separates man from monster. It stops us from falling into stupors fuelled by rage and bloodlust. It is the tool by which we hold power over our own emotions. It is a strength of priceless value, if only people would stop being so blissfully ignorant, hiding in the silky duvets of their own selfishness.

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