#no main tags for this one

[total-drama-brainrot]

SNAIL SNAIL SNAIL THE SNAIL IS US WE ARE THE SNAILS

Snoah.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Today's mood

Watching Sonine edits on YouTube just to feel something 😁👍

[littlemywashere]

p 2 of the comic wip

[dyslexiboxes]

"this user experiences seasonal depression in the autumn and winter, please be patient!" userbox because today is a Day :'3 we probably won't be doing more requests until tomorrow, but don't let that discourage you from/make you feel bad for sending things in! image description in the alt text

Credit is unnecessary, but appreciated!

[dodorimo]

in his name - part 2

Continuation to this

Canon-divergent AU in which Bhaal visits a young Orin and Dark Urge in their dreams. Some Orin/Durge

Warnings: grooming, incest

AO3 link

· · ────── ❊ ────── · ·

The room came alive with the sound of her singing. It was an old nursery rhyme, the lyrics to which she had forgotten, so she replaced it with her own.

First things first, she needed to make space for her guests. The round table in the middle of the room was full of junk and clutter, so to the floor it went.

Her guests today were Lady Frog, Sir Rabbit and Mr. Crow. Mr. Crow was already beginning to rot, but Eirin didn’t mind the smell very much.

With everything in place, it was time for the finishing touches. She found the gem-studded crown at the bottom of a chest. It sat upon her head like it was tailor-made, casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room. She stared at her reflection for a few moments. In her mind’s eye, she was beautiful; deadly, her frame was fuller and her baby fat gave way to sharp cheekbones. Satisfied, she turned around and took her place in the center of the makeshift dais.

“I promise to be loyal, here and forever.” It felt right to say those ancient words. It felt like vindication. “Until the end of everything.”

Eirin imagined Bhaal, his white-blonde framing his face, as he dropped to his knees to let her place his crown on his head. His was different, more subdued, but still pulsating with the unmistakable glow of magic. He would say his vows then and tell her — finally, finally — that he was proud of her.

The guests cheered and danced and clapped until she slit their throats open and they moved no more. Of course, they were already dead, their bodies drained dry, so she smeared red paint on their necks.

“Blood to seal our union,” she hummed. “A feast fit for royalty.”

To die a second death at the hands of their newly crowned king and queen. How many were so lucky?

If Eirin hadn't been so caught up in her own fantasy, she might have noticed Orin standing a few feet away, watching her with cold, unflinching eyes, and she would have known her sister had been there for a long, long time.

“I’ll tell Father,” Orin broke the silence, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Eirin leaped to her feet like a scared rabbit. Dread rooted her in place.

What would Bhaal do if he found out?

Would he cast her aside, make an example of her? The girl who thought she was worthy of a god. Point at her and laugh.

Or, more terrifying, still…

Would he take her up her offer? Make her his queen?

She would rather not know.

Orin turned and went for the door. She watched her reach for the handle as if time had stopped moving.

If this had happened years ago, her sister would have easily outrun her, but Eirin was older now and her legs were longer and she caught the end of her braid — so long, so excessive — just as she was about to cross the threshold. Pulling hard enough to send her to the floor. Her cry of pain didn’t move her one bit. She should have listened to her and cut her hair short.

Too late now.

“Do you remember this one?” The dagger pressed at the older girl’s throat was the same dagger she used to put down the hare at Bhaal’s command, two years ago. The same dagger she had strapped to her waist as Orin snickered at her for her failure.

It has been years, but time has not eased her anger. It festered, like a deadly poison rushing through her veins.

She still held the girl by the braid as she straddled her chest, her own weight pressed down on her to keep her from moving. Orin’s dagger was made short work of, thrown across the floor. She wouldn’t take any chances.

“Maybe I should mark you. Maybe that will teach you not to talk down to your betters.”

And, just because she could, Eirin leaned down and whispered, “Half-breed.”

Orin’s legs flailed uselessly, trying to knock her down. But the more she tried, the deeper the dagger sank into her throat.

The grayish paleness of Orin’s skin had always fascinated her, even if she would never say that to her face. It made the red of her blood jump out. She can’t help but lean forward and scoop some with her blade.

The taste was just as intoxicating as she expected. Coppery and tinged with sweat.

She knew the feeling of holding such power over someone could be exhilarating; she heard plenty of stories from other disciples and from Bhaal himself. But she’s never felt like this when she kills. She never felt like this at all.

Eirin was all too aware of the rapid fall and rise of Orin’s chest. Of her breasts pressed against her lower body.

For a feverish second, she wondered what it would be like to feel her without the barrier of their clothes. Could she take her pleasure in this way like a man would? What would happen if she moved up a little higher and placed her (now wet) slit against her sister's mouth, dragging it up and down, up and down?

The girl’s eyes brimmed with anticipation. Orin wanted this just as much as she did, she realized.

There was a noise like glass shattering on the floor. They part in a tangle of limbs.

No words were exchanged. There was nothing to be said.

She could hear Orin’s fading footsteps but she didn’t dare look back, her cheeks red with shame, and something else altogether. It wasn't a silly sense of morality that caused her to worry. She had been told these types of relationships strengthened their family.

So why did it feel wrong?

It was an accident. A lapse in judgment spurned by bloodlust. She swore on her father’s name: it wouldn’t happen again. Hatred is a feeling she was acquainted with. There was comfort in hate.

But she would be naive to believe a noise like that wasn’t a little too well-timed, even if she couldn’t feel anyone’s presence in the room.

Orin was watching. Who else could be there, skulking in the shadows?

If there was dissent among Bhaal’s faithful, she would find out. Even if she had to round them all up and draw the truth from their corpses.

Her other concern—that her father would learn of her little fantasy—was no longer a pressing matter. Orin wouldn’t say a word to Bhaal about what happened. Not when she was keeping a secret herself.

She repeated in her mind, the words washing over her. Hatred is a feeling she is acquainted with. There is comfort in hatred.

[some-pers0n]

Minecraft movie trailer dropped this thing looks awful my skin itches just looking at these things

[drop--pop--candy]

indie rpgs if they were WOKE

TRANSGENDERTALE

GAY THE PRINCESS

WOKE SHOT

IN STARS AND TIME

[destielmemenews]

source 1

source 2

source 3

[total-drama-brainrot]

hi I’m Jesus Christ and I want Noah Total Drama to be blended into a smoothie

- Jesus Christ

Thanks Jesus. Praise be, or whatever.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

No thoughts.... head empty...

Thinking of these two pieces from pixiv where Maria has twin fox tails and ears and a Tails gijinka is wearing Maria's outfit again...

[discarded-replica]

Unsorted mlp art I've made over the last few weeks :3c

[the-holy-ghosted]

Girls will say "this is my beautiful wife" and their beautiful wife is just a weird looking man

[enderspawn]

these have been in my brain for literal months now please just get them out of here

[inkskinned]

in internet posts it is easy to cut them out of your life. they are hurting you! they aren't listening to you!

they held your hair back. they lent you lipstick. they held your hand at the train station and got you home safe. they rounded on your bully, got loud, said get fucked, spitting-mad in your defense.

they also cut the hair off again. told you that you should really think twice before wearing something like that. took you for granted. took your insecurities and threw them in your face again.

you know logically it should be easy. all the internet advice comments always read it will feel better. like an equation - if a person is rotten, you just remove them. you pull the tooth that's hurting.

but it was never a big flare-up moment. you don't live in a sitcom. they never tried to take your boyfriend or steal from your apartment. they showed up to birthdays and they wrote songs about you and bring you water without you asking. once you found out they carry an emergency inhaler for you, even though you haven't had an asthma attack in years - just in case.

where is the line? people fuck up. sometimes they fuck up badly. sometimes people have raw personalities, like a powerline, and being around them is dangerous. addicting. sometimes they can't help themselves, but you know they're trying. sometimes they are just rough-around-the-edges. sometimes they don't even realize how they sounded when they said that. sometimes it's just - you've both loved each other for so long now, the way this thing hurts goes back to the root.

and that's the fucked up part. you have pushed your fingers against the sweetheart of memory. things these days are electric, tense, harrowing. they didn't used to be. there were a lot of good days in there. sometimes you want to just close your eyes and say can this be over yet? do we still need to be fighting?

doing that would give up any chance you get of getting an apology, but you don't always know that you need an apology, you love them. once they flaked on your birthday party. once they told you to get over it, people are always dying. they also let you crash on their couch for a week after the breakup, handfeeding you when you were so sad you couldn't eat. they are also judgmental about everything, occasionally react to banal statements with an attitude that is weird and fiery. they also love you like a lighthouse sometimes, so strong they cut the storm like lightning.

but the problem is that you might be storm. you might be the thing that needs breaking. what if you are two forces who are desperately, horribly drawn to each other, shaped by the other person's passions, and both good for each other and bad in equal measure.

what if you're both just people, and you're no saint neither.

just cut them off! swallowing the saltwater, you catch yourself in the mirror. you've been shaking more than usual. there's an ache in you that is oblique, loud, impossible to soothe. is this what it looks like? when life is "easier"?

your mouth will always have a hole, is the thing, if you remove the tooth.

[melissa-titanium]

[hinamie]

thank u canon plant nerd megumi for my life

bonus: