#im very normal actually

[spiralneko]

all of my oomfies are actually just hamsters and i imagine you all are in a giant enclosure and when i speak into it yall go "squeak squeak' which is of course the hamster equivalent of liking the post

[rockieriel]

chainshipping save me (ive never seen saw)

save me chainshipping (i'm too scared to watch it)

[koipepo]

That omake of little Kabru not being able to show off his howetown sweets because of Misril gets to me a lot so...

Here's a happier Kabru (and Lairu)

[brookheimer]

people acting like twitter's new post count is gonna cause a mass exodus to tumblr.... this website's demographic has not changed in 865578 years and it sure as hell won't now. this is the site for people who were weird and unhappy in middle school. everyone on here has either been around since they were weird unhappy 13-year-olds or joined when they were weird unhappy 13-year-olds, left because they thought they were normal for a while, then came crawling back again when they realized deep down they were still weird unhappy 13-year-olds. what does this site possibly have to offer you if you grew up happy well-adjusted and unaware of homestuck

[mooshroomterrarium]

...i uh. uhm. i um

[arkarti]

what if.. Mark as a security guard at Freddy's 👀

Twitter: X

[autistic-katara]

new tag game idea :3

put the characters people have described as “you-coded” and try and figure out prev’s personality from that (if u want)

i’ll go first:

@sobeksewerrat @emily-mooon @gh0stfaquerie @ilistentogirlinred @the-beard-of-edward-teach @alyxdefoisnthere @is-this-just-fantasy @bimyself06 @irritablepoe @elsbianism @aroassery @autistic-azulaa @biscuits-lovely-corner and anyone who sees this feel free to join :3

[lunian]

UGH THEY ARE PRETTY *fights*

[ghostlyheart]

How I (roughly) imagine this scale:

1- I see myself as a faster reader than the average person. I can breeze through a text quickly and still understand almost all of it

2- I read at a "normal" speed. I need to pace myself but can consistently read and comprehend a text in a reasonable time frame

3- I see myself as a slower reader than other people. It takes me a long time to get through a text and if I try to go too fast I won't understand it

Obviously this can vary by your mood, the type of text, etc. and this is a very imprecise scale with some overlap, I'm just casually curious!!

[critter-covenant]

"ooooh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!!"

They'd be good friends I like to thinmk

[jestroer]

Two totally normal guys decide to protect the server by containting everything strange

[imviotrash]

I honestly think that Joanne had it the worst (psychologically) during the midnight tea party.

Imagine being bullied and isolated for a year, because someone fabricated an entire web of lies about you due to you getting a tiny bit of positive attention. The truth about the situation finally comes to light, you get your (very demanding) dream job, are well liked among your peers and are finally included within the schools society.

And then within one night you:

-discover your comfort teacher and your first friend are not real and are actually private investigators

-find out your boss who is supposed to be your role model and protector is a murderer

-realize that the principal has been on vacation for a year and was replaced by THE FUCKING GRIM REAPER

-learn that the vice principal is DEAD (and was subjected to human experimentation)

-learn that you're the second replacement for a guy who got brutally murdered and ALSO subjected to human experimentation (which you are witnessing right Infront of your eyes in real time)

-literally hear why and how these humans have been experimented on

-see how someone gets turned into dinner

-almost get turned into dinner yourself and can't escape on time because your body shut down out of shock.

-see how your "friend" is hunted for sport by the grim reaper.

-also see your "comfort teacher" crush someone's head right Infront of you.

-become unconscious out of shock.

-loose not only your boss, two friends (Soma and Ciel )and comfort teacher after this whole fiasco, but also your entire network of coworkers because they got a promotion you're too young to have.

-on top of that YOU CANNOT talk about what happened to you to anyone because you were sworn to secrecy and you can't really talk about it privately to your former colleagues either, since they're now a completely different rank than you.

Like- the guy didn't get physically injured, but he was the only real student to witness the entire Midnight tea party, because he couldn't escape on time. (And let's also not forget that he's the youngest of the real students present at the party and definitely the most sensitive one).

Since the Midnight tea party will happen again, Joanne and his former coworkers are probably forced to attend again since they can't really publicly share the reason as to why they don't want to go.

[amelia-yap]

AUEGH

[frokkie21]

Pegoryu should go fishing more actually

[spookythesillyfella]

GET OUT OF MY HEAD . GET OUT OF MY HEAD . GET OUT OF MY HEAD . GET OUT OF MY HEAD . GET OUT O

★ [ original image under cut]

[lovesickeros]

☆ love; heretical and divine

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 0.8k

To love a God is heretical. It is an act of blasphemy– it is to drag them down from their throne of hollow gold, to topple the pedestal the worshipers uphold on their shoulders like lambs at the herders heel. It is the act of forcing them to their knees and ripping that beating heart of glorious gold and beautiful, cruel divinity from their chest, so pure it burns.

To love a God is to make them sin. To make them painfully, horribly human.

To love a God is to sin.

The love of a worshiper is no love at all, brilliant in its raw purity, untainted by sin. It is fear and obedience masked by adoration so overpowering it corrupts. It makes the lamb so unquestioning in it's faith it will never question the knife that cuts, the teeth that rip, the claws that tear. If the Creator deemed them unworthy of the very life crafted by their hands, then they must have committed a sin so grave there lay no salvation for their horrid soul.

But she is no worshiper– her lips speak of heresy as easily as she breathes, her words nothing but lies, cold and cruel like the ice that crawls along her skin like webs.

She loves a God like a lover should.

A damned sinner reaching longingly for the heavens.

She loves a God in the subtle brush of their lips, their muffled voices behind closed doors as they indulge in curiosity untamed. She is a sinner through and through, but she feels herself fall further with every brush of her hand across their cheeks, every touch she bestows upon them like a lover. She memorizes the imperfections of their body like memorizing a map– every scar, every mark, every line drawn on their body like a canvas, her touch the brush that stains the pristine white.

No devoted lamb shall ever see the painting they create in these stolen moments– it is for the eyes of a heretic so vile it makes them shudder, their body dirtied by the love of a woman so vile even their divinity is obscured by the ice.

The lambs may be satisfied with fleeting glimpses of gold and empty words from lips that guide them to the jaws of the wolves, but she is not. Her hands crave them like a starving hound, aching to touch that imperfect skin hidden by the veil of gold that obscures the painfully human body beneath. She longs to free them from the golden cage that binds them– to see their wings blot out the sky, their divinity tainted by sin and making them all the more beautiful for it.

It is a longing that leaves a festering wound that cannot heal, will not heal. Even if it could, she would not let it.

For as much as she tries, deny it as she may, she is no better then the blind lambs following the herder who holds a blade in their hand, glittering like gold in the sun, stained by dull red.

She is a fool, and what a fool they make of her with the touch of their hands against her skin– so cold it leaves frost on their fingertips. Yet they do not fear the cold, mapping out every inch of her imperfections, carved into her body by her own hands.

She has always been a heretic, cursing the divine until she could speak no more, but if divinity can be found in them – in this love that consumes, that burns her hands and her lips – then she is a Saint, praying at the altar until her throat bled.

But in the end, she has and will always be a cold woman with hands stained with blood. Until it is all she can taste, until it is all she can smell, until it is all she can feel. These hands of hers, heretical and divine, will bleed the God from their veins– she will become the wolf to their lamb until the rivers of Teyvat run gold with their ichor, until the gold bleeds into red, the taste of their divinity on her tongue.

Until she drags a God from their lofty throne and makes of them a monster.

There is no greater triumph to the heretic then to love a God into sin. To make a God sin to love.

To love is to be human, and they are no God.

Even if she must tear the gold from their very being until all that's left is something human. Even if Teyvat crumbles and decays, even if it begins over and over again..

She will do it again and again, until the gold can bleed no longer. Until her sins grow too great for Teyvat to contain.

To love a God is to devour, and be devoured. An endless cycle of sin that dulls the glow of gold into something new– something horrifying and divine, in it's own right. Something just as horrid as her, just as divinely corrupted by the sins she carries on her shoulders like a trophy, as gold as the sun and as cold as ice.

Divinity, carved into something human by love all consuming, until it all bleeds away and they begin their dance anew, for as many cycles as it takes.

An eternity, if she must, of dooming this world of theirs to fire and decay for a glimpse of the being snared by their golden shackles.