#hope they can come back from this

[renamusing]

you ever think about how robert handed himself in so aaron could live a normal life surrounded by his family only for said family to wash their hands off aaron whenever it was convenient for them and now aaron is utterly alone about to fight his uncle supposedly to the death in the same garage where his uncle once saved his life and where aaron got married to the love of his life who sacrificed everything for him? im gonna turn into the joker fr this time

[cozylittleartblog]

cant tell you how bad it feels to constantly tell other artists to come to tumblr, because its the last good website that isn't fucked up by spoonfeeding algorithms and AI bullshit and isn't based around meaningless likes

just to watch that all fall apart in the last year or so and especially the last two weeks

there's nowhere good to go anymore for artists.

edit - a lot of people are saying the tags are important so actually, you'll look at my tags.

#please dont delete your accounts because of the AI crap. your art deserves more than being lost like that #if you have a good PC please glaze or nightshade it. if you dont or it doesnt work with your style (like mine) please start watermarking #use a plain-ish font. make it your username. if people can't google what your watermark says and find ur account its not a good watermark #it needs to be central in the image - NOT on the canvas edges - and put it in multiple places if you are compelled #please dont stop posting your art because of this shit. we just have to hope regulations will come slamming down on these shitheads#in the next year or two and you want to have accounts to come back to. the world Needs real art #if we all leave that just makes more room for these scam artists to fill in with their soulless recycled garbage #improvise adapt overcome. it sucks but it is what it is for the moment. safeguard yourself as best you can without making #years of art from thousands of artists lost media. the digital world and art is too temporary to hastily click a Delete button out of spite

[critterbitter]

Language divides and building bridges.

Elesa’s feeling homesick. Emmet, bless his heart, tries to help by infodumping while Ingo frantically runs off to find water (crying is a very dehydrating experience).

((Would you look at that! The kids are picking up kantonese and galarian from each other!))

BONUS:

Heh. Callback.

Want to see more? Here’s the masterpost for submas!

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

putting my prediction on record now that the coming decade is going to see the rise of viral-marketed fancy at-home water filtration systems, driving and driven by a drastic reduction in the quality of U.S. tap water (given that we are in a 'replacement era' where our current infrastructure is reaching the end of its lifespan--but isn't being replaced). also guessing that by the 2030s access to drinkable tap water will be a mainstream class issue, with low-income & unstably housed people increasingly forced to rely on expensive bottled water when they can't afford the up-front cost of at-home filtration--and with this being portrayed in media as a "moral failing" and short-sighted "choice," rather than a basic failure of our political & economic systems. really hope i'm just being alarmist, but plenty of this already happens in other countries, and the U.S. is in a state of decline, so. here's praying this post ages into irrelevance. timestamped April 2023

[bluerosefox]

Good Doggos Give Hope!

Cujo was, is a good boy both in life and in death.

He knows this. Everyone knows this.

So when Cujo notices his favorite half boy seemed more hurt than normal when he goes to see him, notices how stressed and on the verge of tears, notices the strain in his voice as he pretends to be okay as he pets Cujo's head. Cujo knows his favorite boy needs help.

Cujo is a good boy, and as he listens to his favorite boy and his friends talk about the GIW getting more deadly, how his parents inventions are becoming to much, how Vlad circling around his favorite boy even more often, how he's failing more classes again. Cujo decides his favorite boy needs helps.

But first Cujo needs to figure out how.

He needs help.

He needs... hope.

Hope to find help for his favorite boy.

'Everything will be okay!' A voice spoke to him, Cujo spooked yelped and flew higher than he already was and he boofed when he realized he was no longer alone... or on earth anymore, turns out he started floating up and away from earth when he started thinking of how to help his favorite boy.

Cujo, floating from both him being a ghost and from space, turned around to see... Oh! A fellow dog! Who glows blue! It has been a while since played with another dog!

He barked, tail wagging in greeting at the idea of meeting a new and fellow floating friend.

'You new friend. Need hope? I help!' The other dog voice echoed out as their tail wagged as well 'We play soon but first hope! I knows many who can help!'

Cujo barked back in excitement, yes, hope for his favorite boy is here!

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: two secret admirers except he is actually insanely down bad for you its crazy

warnings: mentions the readers face 'flushing', it's kind of from hoshinas pov it's mostly his thoughts and voices, I cannot tell if hoshinas ooc but he's rather quiet with a whole ton of thoughts so idk if that's not it for you pls beware

Unlike one would expect, he was rather one to just sit back and admire. This is not to say he'd let a random guy just snatch you away, but he often couldn't do much more than just admire. It even surprised himself whenever he caught himself watching from afar again, but it really did make sense. He was one of hard work that no one would see, for as long as he could remember. Attention was not something he was used to, nor was it something he craved intensely. So what you had going on was fine for him, he was the happiest he's been just working with you every day.

However, sometimes at night, he'd wonder what it would be like if the one he loved, loved him back. What if he could make you smile and get you flustered? He wanted to know, but he convinced himself he didn't need to, nor could he.

Yet, one day those humble thoughts did a complete 180. He couldn't help it anymore, you had to be his.

It was no special day, at least not until you came along at least. It wasn't that big of a deal— it really wasn't, but the way your face flushed when his hand accidentally grazed your cheek would never be forgotten.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he had said, immediately. He spun you around and touched the place he grazed, asking if you were okay.

"I'm, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," you said avoiding eye contact. You didn't mean to be rude but you knew your face was bright red and you couldn't dare see his expression.

But you should've. You absolutely should've. His heart clenched at the sight and his eyes widened, he was undeniably in love with you, anyone could tell. He didn’t know if he had any effect on you, or if you were just not used to people touching your cheek, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He would be damned to let anyone see that look on your face, let alone cause it, so there was no choice but to make you his. He wanted you so badly, but he just didn't know how.

Now all through the day, he found himself thinking about you— he didn't think it could possibly get worse. He noticed everything you did more than ever. He noticed how your horrible sleep schedule was finally a little better, he noticed how you noticed everyone's new achievements and always remembered to compliment them, he noticed how you'd still sneak out in the middle of the night to train when you just couldn't fall asleep. He knew all these things, and yet he didn't know what to do.

A few weeks had passed and he was training late into the night again, but his thoughts were filled with you. It was getting late and he was finally going to call it a night, and that was when he finally noticed you by the door. When your eyes first met, he truly thought he was hallucinating— thought that the fatigue and the constant thought of you had made him go insane. Until you spoke, that was.

“I apologize,” you said in a hurry, your eyes shooting around until they slowly met his again. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

‘Didn’t mean to stare’? ‘Stare’? How long had you been there for? You were waiting for him to say something, but that was not even on his mind at the moment. As smart as he was, there were constantly thoughts flooding his head and all he had were questions. Why were you here? Why did you stay? Why were you still up? Were you having a hard time sleeping? Did he wake you up? Was he making a lot of noise? No, your room should be far enough away from the training room. Then why were you all the way here? Did you want to train too? Was he in the way? Were you—

“I’ll um, leave you to your training,” you said quickly, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “Sorry to bother you.”

You were turning away to leave when he reached out for your wrist. His mind was still blank but naturally the question he wanted answers to the most slipped right out of his mouth.

“Why…” he asked softly, eyes wide with surprise. “Why… were you here?”

You were just as surprised and you also didn’t know how to respond. “I couldn’t sleep, unfortunately,” you said slowly. It wasn’t a lie, you really were struggling to sleep— however you did turn the corner in the hall to see if the lights in the training room were on, and you did hope he was the one still up late. Yet, to your surprise his expression relaxed and he almost looked disappointed as he carefully released the grip on your wrist.

“But you need to get some rest as well,” you said, wanting to say something, anything, to keep you in this moment.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said. He was getting no rest tonight, he knew he was going to be up late just thinking about you or thinking about how he’s mildly heartbroken. He was tired of being stuck in his thoughts though and, maybe from the fatigue, it slipped out of him. “I wish you were here to see me.”

He only realized what he had said after he heard himself say it. Immediately the thoughts were back. Oh but it was quiet… perhaps you hadn’t heard it? Not a chance. What does he say next? Does he play it off? That would be such a scummy move. Oh, why would he do that? He had gotten so far keeping his feelings to no one other than himself, keeping quiet, admiring from afar, why now?

“I was!” you said, immediately. “I was here to see you!”

What did you say?

“I was hoping you were the one still training. I was hoping I’d see you tonight,” you said clearly.

He was about to embrace you when he caught himself right before he threw his arms around you. His hands were placed on your shoulders and his face was so close to yours. “Sorry, I’m literally drenched in sweat,” he said. “That would’ve been disgusting.”

“I don’t mind, I can always shower again,” you said, more eager for the hug than anything else.

“No, you need to sleep, it’s late,” he said, but he had to admit that pulled at his heart.

“Okay, then this will have to suffice,” you said and kissed him quickly.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Not to be dramatic, but this was the moment he had been dreaming of for so long now.

His head was hanging, avoiding any eye contact— he didn’t want you to see his face flushed.

“I am so insanely in love with you.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

True love is possible only in the next world. For new people. It it too late for us.

(Redraw for @pakhnokh's DTIYS post!)

[ruporas]

studies from the finale

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

thinking about Eddie & hyacinths again

[royalarchivist]

I love the QSMP. Not only has it introduced me to many amazing international creators, it's also introduced me to the French and Brazilian community, who are so sweet, funny, and chaotic in their own unique ways. I love seeing fans sharing their culture and learning from one another, and I myself have learned a lot this past year. I think it's incredible how QSMP brings so many different people together – all of us united in our love and passion for this project and its goals.

But passion can often evoke strong emotions, and these strong emotions aren't always positive.

The past few months, I have seen multiple waves of hate, bad-faith generalizations of communities, and racist remarks directed at fellow fans – especially those who are part of the French / Brazilian community. This kind of behavior is inexcusable, and is in direct conflict with the mission of QSMP, which is to break language barriers and unite communities.

We are a global community with a variety of people from different backgrounds. Miscommunications may occasionally occur because of cultural differences and/or language barriers, but we should use these moments as opportunities to learn and engage with other people rather than assuming the worst about them and starting fights.

Although certain issues can be resolved with communication, sometimes it’s better to block and move on. Avoid spreading negativity or hate, and save yourself the headache of interacting with people who are just looking for someone to argue with.

No matter what community we're a part of or what languages we speak, we're all here to have fun. Please remember to be kind to each other. We have more in common than we have in conflict.

[crescentfool]

happy mochizuki monday!!!

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[maysrinn]

First of Snow ❄️

Goosey Gray was experiencing her first ever winter with Coriolanus Duck in the cozy and warm barn, cuddled up to him. He woke her up to show her the fluffy, cold outside world after she mentioned that, besides a few snowflakes, she had never really experienced winter as he knew it. Determined to give her the full experience, he made it his mission to introduce her to winter. Taking her ice “skating” on the pond, or a little snowball fight in the yard which she won even with a broken wing

Spoiler alert: she wasn’t a fan of the cold! Thankfully, most of the time, Goosey Gray stayed warm and snug in the huddle of her nest, apologize THEIR Nest 🪿❄️

[fernsensei]

i'm finally feeling better!!! here's victory v1

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

You're cornered, a blade held tight to your neck ready to slice and cut should you be anything but good and perfect and useful. Your teeth are bared, too sharp and trying desperately to bite the hand that feeds you - trying desperately to bite and kill something that will let you escape from this hell of repetition.

You're dangerous - yet you break so easily. You're a loyal soldier who does as they're told and asked - yet you're beginning to doubt the man you stand beside. You're loyal to a terrible, terrible fault - but having to kill your friends is one step too far over the edge you're teetering on. Maybe it was good, maybe it will get you the praise you desperately strive for, but standing atop your house sobbing and breaking down - trying so desperately to convince yourself this is temporary and good and *you're not a bad person*, doesn't really hold that same impression.

There's blood on your hands again - more permanent and literal than it was with Momboo, and deeper and darker and a harder stain to scrub than it was with Ocie. It seeps into your gloves like an infection slowly rotting away your bones - rotting away *you.* It stains them a deep, deep red; a color so deep that won't come clean from the canvas. It stains your hands pink, dyeing them red in a way that won't come clean - won't come *off* - no matter how hard you scrub.

You keep trying and trying and *trying* - and you just keep failing. There is no being good in this - there are other ways; pleasing the person holding your best friend above your head isn't going to get you anywhere - because there is no, there never has been, any friend to bring back. It's temporary, you tell yourself, and yet you can't even convince yourself of that.

There are asterisks upon asterisks attached to your words; so many unsaid "right?"s that attach themselves to the ends of your sentences. Worries and questions and fears you don't voice yet permeate your actions; moving your birds away from your bed to the safety of a tower because you're so so terrified the hands made to hurt and harm and *kill* will do so upon something so innocent. So terrified you'll hurt the only things still willing to try and help and protect you. You're worried, so terrified, that these hands that were made for killing - that were *made* to be stained with blood - will do so; that they will follow through with their intended purpose. The unsaid terror that your hands, the ones made with the distinct purpose to harm and bleed, will kill and rot and decay until there is nothing of your friends, and your family, and yourself.

You're terrified - bareing too sharp teeth at anyone who dares try to help. You're a cornered animal, not afraid to bite and harm - but only doing so out of fear. A raptorous bird they call you, your brother a drake cornered - but aren't you, too, cornered? Only raptorous out of necessity for survival, shoved much too far into a too-small corner with a too sharp blade held to your neck - prepared to take your life without much of a second thought.

Raptorous you are, Icarus, but too are you cornered and terrified. Your hands stained red with the blood of a friend and the blood of family. You can't scrub them clean, not anymore, not *like this* - but gods, how you will try. (And gods, how you will fail.) You will try so desperately to convince yourself; and fail and break and *shatter* because you can't. It's temporary, you tell yourself, but the cracks start to show and the doubt starts to creep and the tears start to *fall* - and suddenly there is no coming back from this.