Every time i purchase a moderately expensive item the Karl Marx on my shoulder is like "For shame... you purchase yet another pair of jeans when you have 5 already at home, you despicable commodity fetishist? In my time, a man with five outfits would consider himself blessed beyond measure, and yet you want for more, while there are children starving in the world??" to which the second Karl Marx on my other shoulder says "Objection! Those 5 pairs of jeans all wildly uncomfortable or have holes in the ass, due to the decline of clothing quality driven by the fast fashion industry, unfortunately making this purchase a necessity... Plus, by purchasing a slightly more expensive pair of jeans from an independent brand, seeking quality over 'brand recognition', they are deliberately trying to avoid engaging in conspicuous consumption!" to which the third Karl Marx clinging to my back like that beetle from Doctor Who says "Remember, my friend; the less you eat, drink, buy books, go to the theatre or to balls, or to the pub, and the less you think, love, theorize, sing, paint, fence, etc., the more you will be able to save and the greater will become your treasure which neither moth nor rust will corrupt — your capital. Buy the jeans," to which I say "I don't know if any of you have actually read Karl Marx"
Astarion walking into the fight with Cazador, skin glowy and moisturized, recently fed off of thinking blood, hair freshly curly girl-routined, surrounded by friends who love him whether he likes it or not (one of them on fire... several of the others in possession of at least 2 different "disentigrate that old man" spells), dressed to the nines in the finest clothes the world has to offer, pockets jangling with the 30k gold and the copious amounts of jewelry we have given him throughout the journey, chapstick: on, four ghouls he summoned with his newly acquired Necromancy of Thay knowledge b-boying along beside of him, big wet kiss mark on his forehead: fuck you!
Cazador, with 2 bucks and cobwebs in his bank account, no steeze, no friends, no real plan of attack except the 8 dudes he found on craigslist, and yet all the audacity in the world: I got this... He has NOTHING ON ME!!!
Hi my name is Darayavahoush e Afshin and I have luscious curly hair that goes to my shoulders and emerald green eyes that glow like gems. Some people say I look like I'm related to the Nahids but I'm not, I wish I was cause they're major fucking hotties. I wear a fancy whip called a scourge and an impractical bow and arrow. The Geziri glare at me. I flip my middle finger at them then murder all of them and their families.
dishonored said you will carry the heart of your dead lover which you use to listen to the void and learn secrets. they are always with you and you will listen to those secrets and realise everyone around you is in their own way carrying a dead heart of their own.
Woods were ringed with a colour so soft, so subtle that it could scarcely be said to be a colour at all. It was more the idea of a colour - as if the trees were dreaming green dreams or thinking green thoughts.
-Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
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