#we want to help you guys

[anonymous-dentist]

My heart goes out to every single member of the Quackity Studios team, both former and current, that have had their lives ruined due to the negligent and abusive behavior of their higher-ups. I’m heartbroken for you both as a fellow creative and as a human being with a goddamn moral backbone. The lack of respect I’ve seen accounts of over the past several weeks appalls me, and that’s what this whole thing boils down to. Respect.

Respect has not been given to Quackity Studios employees. No communication, no professionalism. Working conditions that are illegal in several countries. Lack of accountability and action. The employees deserve better than to have their hard work and their passion and love for the project wasted working for people who just don’t seem to give a damn.

If there are any Quackity Studios employees following me who haven’t spoken out of fear or because of that freaky bogus NDA, just know that it will get better. You are all massively talented individuals and you WILL get that big break you’ve been waiting for, I just know it!!

There isn’t much the rest of us can do but support the admins during this time, but I wish you all the best in the world. You are worth so much more than what you have gotten, and your minds are beautiful. Don’t let the burnout and stress get to you. For this, just like everything else, is just a moment in time. It’ll be better soon, and we’ll all be supporting you until soon happens.

[wewontbesleeping]

the weirdest fucking thing to me is how men will be like "it's so hard being a man. no one cares that i'm sad. the loneliness we experience could NEVER be understood by a woman" and then also be like "btw i never talk to my friends and i don't know their names and i love hanging out with men because they don't talk about their stupid emotions all the time. women could never understand a bond like this." like ???

[chalkeater]

i have NOT drawn enough talk sprite redraws. Heres some warm ups!! RAAHH 🦖

[totally-italy]

Wherefore dost motivation hold deep hatred for me?

As the heading probably implies, I am currently lacking a lot of motivation, which is truly sub-optimal because I literally have my Italian GCSEs this week and I literally have not revised. Moreover, my End of Years are fast approaching and I have my French GCSEs in three week's time. Help.

Consequentially, even though my history teacher still refuses to believe that it is a word, I have decided to turn this into one of those posts where my dopamine literally just relies on the number of notes that I recieve. As promised, @the-red-planet-mars, the floor is yours you have been tagged.

Rules:

Please don't spam the comment section.

You can tag a maximum of 5 people.

Please don't spam reblog.

10 notes: I will actually plan my English homework so that I can then do it without having to ask for an extension. It is due on the day on which I have two of my Italian papers.

15 notes: I will update my 'Aeneid' notes so that my virtual document is up to date with the translations that we have done in class. I should technically also revise the themes and how Juno is portrayed, but we don't talk about that right now.

20 notes: If I haven't done this yet, I will create both a Spanish Quizlet with all the vocabulary I need to learn and I will create a Latin one for all the vocabulary from 'The Aeneid' that I need to know.

25 notes: I will plan, in English, different things that I could say for the picture for my French IGCSE oral. Also, this is a picture I will be using for my Spanish End of Years, so that is doubly helpful.

30 notes: I will do an Italian listening paper though I will listen to it at a faster speed than what is asked because otherwise I will literally get so bored and lose all will to live.

45 notes: I will finish researching Virgil and the historical context.

60 notes: I will practice Latin and Greek vocabulary on Quizlet every day after this week, for at least 10 minutes each day for each language.

75 notes: I really need to do this. I will make a poster with how to form different tenses in Italian.

100 notes: I will do an Italian Writing practice paper. This is going to cause me so much suffering. Help me.

120 notes: I will actually write down different expressions, including idomatic phrases, that I could use to describe the picture for my French IGCSE oral.

130 notes: I will make physics notes on energy.

140 notes: I will make notes on quantitative chemistry.

150 notes: I will make a poster with how to form different tenses in French.

155 notes: I will watch the AQA videos on the Cold War and make notes on them.

170 notes: I will do a practice Spanish listening paper.

200 notes: I will practice Latin and Greek vocabulary on Quizlet every day after this week, for at least 30 minutes each day for each language, including a written vocabulary test.

230 notes: I will do a practice Spanish reading and writing paper.

250 notes: I will do a practice Latin translation and ask my teacher if she happens to have a mark scheme.

270 notes: I will do a practice Greek translation and ask my teacher if she happens to have a mark scheme.

300 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Crime and Punishment.

350 notes: I finish my Biology notes on reproduction.

380 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Religion and Life.

430 notes: I will look through my history notes on Germany and finish them in accordance to the AQA book.

520 notes: I will do a practice Greek language paper.

530 notes: I will do a practice Latin language paper.

605 notes: I will actually write down different expressions, including idomatic phrases, that I could use to describe the picture for my Spanish End of Year oral.

720 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Buddhism.

850 notes: I will make full notes on the Cold War.

Honestly, if you have even bothered to read through all of these, you have absolutely earned more respect that I thought I was capable of giving to a single human being. I technically have a lot more things I should do, including re-reading Things Fall Apart and actually making complete maths notes, as well as notes for the sciences, but I doubt I will never get this many tags anyway.

Edit: It has been five minutes and I already got 14 notes. I am actually terrified of this site. What in Tartarus? Y'all are crazy and I love you so much.

[moeblob]

So does he, Gallagher.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Always a bit puzzled by people saying that anyone who wanted long-term consequences for TotK Zelda's sacrifice are "edgy".

I'm not even particularly in the camp that she should have remained a dragon forever (I think this should have been Ganondorf's fate, it would have been sooo much more impactful than to explode him and move on but anyway). To be honest, I wish the rules for turning back would have been 1) clear 2) active gameplay on the player so that it feels like it's something we have earned, and 3) not make her have amnesia about it and/or at least having her gain some crucial insight because of the experience.

(also: doesn't she crave knowledge? isn't that insanely mean to have her watch over every civilization and every bit of history ever and then take it away from her? kind of dislike how totk privileges the comfort of the player's feelings over what the characters would actually want or need tbh)

To be perfectly honest, I fully expected us needing to turn her back before engaging Ganondorf so we would fight him together, especially since Zelda as a compagnon exists in the game code already (though in a very subdued state). It feels very very strange to me that all of this mechanic of Sages following us existing and yet we never have the very climactic cool Zelda-staple moment of facing Ganondorf or Ganon together (OoT, WW, TP, ST and probably more that I'm forgetting all did this in some way --even BotW had Zelda more involved than in TotK). I'm not sure Mineru was a compagnon that was needed over Zelda honestly, especially given the kind of non-insight she gives us on the zonai (even if the idea of the mecha is cool, it really could have been Zelda using her zonai + sheikah knowledge to pilot one for us or something).

But anyway: yeah, even if this isn't what I would have wanted personally, I think wanting Zelda to remain a dragon is kind of arguably more respectful of her relationship to Link, in a way, that what the game ended up doing. When she enacted this sacrifice, Zelda decided to trust him to such a extent that she lost herself, reciprocated his trust in her and his devotion to her, and now the future of Hyrule exists beyond her and beyond what Hyrule once was, but she trusts them to follow through and be happy and she will watch over them from the stars moving on. It's fine if we manage to save her from that fate, but even if we don't, honestly this sounds like a beautiful story/tragic romance to me, if you want to read it that way. Tragedy doesn't necesserily involve edginess. Fictional pain isn't always mean, or out to get you.

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Danny desperately wants to find the explosion guy. Tim is really good at covering his tracks... he didn't account for ghosts.

The explosions make it onto TV as purported terror activity and most people haven't heard of that part of the world much less ever given a second thought to care about it. The only real reason it gets reported on has something to do with the Justice League and... Danny knows too much.

He's been in training for Clockwork's court (which he's suspicious of- feels like kingly duty bullshit- but Danny is playing along out of curiosity for now) and he's learned a lot about how the living and non-living worlds collide. That means learning about CW's usual suspects- one of which just happened to have a ton of bases around the area Danny was seeing on the news.

It didn't take long for Danny to try to piece together that whoever blew up Nanda Parbat was trying to fuck with the League of Shadows, and was doing it successfully. Less green portals in the world the better, same goes for assassins. But it gets Danny thinking... Maybe he can employ similar tactics on the GIW Bases that keep spawning on the edges of Amity Park. It would at least set them back while he and his friends navigated the help line desk to request Justice League intervention. None of them can leave Amity Park, so outreach is going to have to be creative.

So Danny figures he'll just find the guy. Call up some ghosts who were there, or er, came from there and get a profile and track him down. But the ghosts keep saying it was The Detective. Annoying!

Danny goes full conspiracy theory, gets Tucker and Sam involved, and begrudgingly asks Wes Weston his thoughts.

He hadn't expected Wes to garble out a thirty minute presentation (that had 100 more slides left to go before he cut it off) about how Batman totally trained with a cult and so did his kids. Danny kind of rolled his eyes but... hey, new avenue of searching in the Infinite Realms at least.

The ghosts confirm that Bombs is for sure not Batman's MO- But maybe his second kid would know? The second kid was already brought back to life though, so no way to easily reach him... Danny starts to realize that this might be the work of a Robin now. Wasn't the red one known for solving cold cases? (Sam provides this information- its a social faux pas to not know hero gossip at Gotham Galas- everything she's learned is against her will).

It all comes to a head when Danny goes about the hard task of opening a portal for the guy to come through at just the right time, explain the infinite realms so he doesn't panic and then describe what the fuck was going on with the GIW. It takes months, just over a full year, of random (educated guesses) portal generating- Finally, Red Robin drops into the land of the dead.

"So, you're the guy I've got to talk to about explosions right?" Danny enthusiastically asks.

Tim thinks he's died and landed in the after life following 56 hours of being awake and plummeting off the side of a building into a Lazarus pool. Nothing makes sense about the kid in front of him.

"Yeah, I got a guy for munitions." Tim answers cooly.

"How do you feel about secretly sanctioned government operations that violate protected rights?"

"Gotta get rid of 'em some how. Need me to point you in the right direction?" This might as well be happening.

[lyraofthestarsss]

Pink haired tango pink haired tango pink haired tango pink haired tango pink haired tango-

Someone please add some lithium and potassium to that creature please I am ON MY KNEES 🙏🛐

[0ddbugs]

who's gonna tell him?

comic for @tmntaucompetition or apparently ultimate turtle bball

AU Cameos (in order of appearance ->):

Celestial AU: @ashwii

Snap Dragon: @bluesgras

RoRAU: @gumball-gotdamb-watterson

The Night w/ Tentative Devotee: @raymustardd & @s0fti3w1tch

WRORAU: @weranoutofrats-rottmntau

Never Better: @less-depresso-more-espresso

Mutant Chompy: @probably-not-a-rutabaga

We are too excited for interactions and crossovers; there are so many amazing aus~ and also Leo WILL be throwing bballs at ppl so DUCK

[uncanny-tranny]

Shoutout to all the other adults who have acne or any other condition of the skin that you are expected to outgrow or "just deal with."

Adulthood isn't this magical time where everything just disappears, and the reality is that these skin conditions are largely genetic. It isn't your fault (nor your skin's fault) that you are an adult with different skin than other people. In fact, it's neutral (and even, dare I say, good!).

[artdeco-zweig]

hitting partners | patrick zweig

part one

patrick zweig. even the way his name sat in your mouth annoyed you. everything about him did, from his smug smirk, to his attitude he convinced everyone was charming. everyone but you. you saw right through him. patrick zweig was nothing more than a privileged rich kid who never had to work for anything he got. and even worse, he believed he deserved it.

you on the other hand, devoted every moment of your life, since you were 8 years old, to tennis. you breathed it. you worshipped it, like a god. your family wasn’t wealthy, but they were good enough off to afford a tennis coach for you, and your equipment. but that was it. you sacrificed every birthday, christmas, and any other gift worthy milestone for tennis. and you were good, great even, though still young, and bursting with potential. but you would never be a prodigy. where you lacked natural talent, you made up for in discipline and utter devotion to your craft.

something patrick zweig could never even begin to comprehend. patrick was passionate about tennis for all the wrong reasons. he wanted to be great, the best even. but he had no desire in becoming the best. there was no work ethic, no diligence. potential? sure, tons of it. but no backbone to fulfill it. patrick zweig played tennis like he thought the trophy already had his name engraved into it.

and now? now he was your hitting partner.

you had never spent much time considering a career plan besides tennis. for that reason alone, the idea of college never really excited you. you weren’t interested in playing girls with no chance of going pro. matches that didn’t challenge you felt like a waste of time, and a risk of injury not necessary to take. you wanted to be a tennis player, a professional tennis player. so you started touring as soon as you graduated high school and were eligible.

unfortunately enough for you; that was also patrick’s plan. you first bumped into one another at the Tampa Bay Challenger tournament. it was both of your firsts. you watched the men’s final, zweig vs. tornids, and that was when your annoyance began. you had heard of patrick before then, seen his playstyle, you knew the reputation he held. his nickname of ‘fire’ following him into professional play. but without his ‘ice’ counter part, he played more like an inferno.

throughout the final match, you witnessed him smashing his racket to bits, audible swearing, and a brief verbal altercation with a line judge. none of these things were particularly character damning offenses, but they showed a lack of respect for the game. tennis has always been a clean sport, elegant almost. the behavior and temper of the players directly impacts the scoring of the matches. he was giving points away over anger. anger at himself no less, as he was the one tanking in the final set. you found it embarrassing. you knew you could be a bit of a prude with the seriousness you placed on tennis, and its equally prude rules at times. but it was all you had, all you had ever known. and watching someone as naturally talented as patrick zweig, throw games away got under your skin.

at the after party, later that night, you had the displeasure of meeting mr. zweig. you, the women’s Tampa Bay Challenger champion, and him, the men’s runner up. your managers knew each other, so they insisted you meet. you decided to play nice, as patrick had never done anything to you; his play style just had a way of annoying you. your managers briefly pointed to one another before occupying themselves with a conversation with each other.

“patrick zweig, it’s nice to finally meet you” he said outstretching his hand. “and congratulations” he added, as he nodded to the glass trophy settled atop your manager’s table next to you.

“y/n, yes, we must have just missed each other during juniors” you said as your hand, gently reached out and shook his. the gesture feeling a bit formal, but appreciating it nonetheless. his hand was warm, and much softer than you expected. your fingers ghosted past one another, almost aching not to be separated. before you could start out a lie about how he played well and had an unlucky break in his match, he met your eyes directly and asked

“do you always play so timidly, or was that just today?”

“excuse me?” you blinked at him and cocked your head slightly, thinking he must have misspoken and had a different intention behind the question.

“I mean your play style” he continued with no hesitation. “you looked like an entirely different player for the final set. you looked scared, almost shy. you didnt even really celebrate when you hit the winner” he had looked away from you by now, eyes drifting as if he was replaying your every move from the match in his head.

“do you always play that way?” he finished, eyes finding yours again. when he saw your furrowed brows, and blank eyes staring back at him, something washed over him. maybe it was a hint of regret, sorry for the way his question must have sounded, but you were in no mood to pay that any attention.

“actually patrick” you started, eyes locked on his, practically spitting the words down his throat. “i play to win. which i did. which i usually do” you placed your drink on the table, keeping a cool tone, despite the anger bubbling within you. “maybe if your play style were a bit more adaptive, or you showed any hint of control, you would as well” you retorted with a smug smile fueled by the signs of annoyance, your mention of his loss left all over his expression.

“hm” was all he could muster before he picked up the drink you had placed on the table next to you both. your eyes never parted, as if who ever looked away first was resigning the match. his hand steadily brought the glass to his lips and he took a big sip of whatever it was you were drinking. as he placed the glass back down, he smirked slightly, seeming almost fueled, or intrigued, by this rather polite argument. you broke the silence as you wanted to limit any possibility of him getting the last word.

“i have practice early tomorrow, so i need to get going. im sure you have an off day scheduled tomorrow, so please do enjoy the party.” you turned on your heels, perfume catching the wind and blowing right into patrick’s face. you walked away, swaying, content with how the conversation ended in you favor. a tiny part of you wanted to turn around, wanted to know if he was watching you walk away. the larger part of you, somehow, already knew that he was.

two hours later in your hotel room, showered and tucked away for the night, you brooded over his line of questioning again. how dare he? after everything, after how hard you worked, after securing your first professional tournament win, people like patrick zweig still questioned your skill… scared? shy? you were none of those things. you were a tennis player. the very thing patrick had yet to prove himself to be. yes he was talented, incredibly so. but he played tennis how he wanted to. you played tennis how you needed to.

you stirred, unable to drift asleep, thinking about him. you were hung up on the idea that he was willing to ruin your night, question your skill, despite having more than proved yourself just hours prior. hung up on the way he stared back at you, fire burning in his eyes. god, he was so annoying. somewhere, deep down, you were also hung up on the slight shine of your lipgloss painted across his bottom lip; where he had laid his lips a top the gloss stamp yours left on the rim of your glass.

[interstellarlyinlove]

Almost kiss (May 13th)

word count: 707

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius is so angry he’s going to explode. He wants to break something but he’s sitting on his bed and there’s nothing to break. “What do you mean?”

Sirius can tell that Remus is also angry. His skin is blotchy and he’s pacing around their dorm room. “I mean, there is so way in hell I’m going to risk any of you getting hurt.”

“But there is no risk!” Sirius wants to hold Remus by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. “Why won’t you let us help you?”

“Because you don’t know that there is no risk!” Remus screams. “Who decided that an animagus is werewolf bite immune, again?”

“Mcgonagall said–”

“Everything McGonagall said is theoretical. And I’m sure she'd agree with me if she knew why you were asking her in the first place. There is no real-life proof or evidence or–”

“Remus, listen to me,” Sirius says, trying to keep his voice level. He stands up and crowds Remus’ personal space because he wants Remus to listen to him. He puts his hand on Remus’ shoulder, and Remus holds his gaze. “Animals can’t be werewolves. It’s safe. Lycanthropy only affects humans and how lucky are we? That’s–”

“Don’t patronize me!” 

“I’m not,” Sirius says. He tries again, “I’m sorry. Remus, we want to do this for you.”

Remus lets out a shaky breath. “Sirius, I truly appreciate it. I know I’m being harsh but this is the nicest thing someone’s ever done to me, and I love you all so much. It’s incredible. I can’t even express how grateful I am that you thought of something like this.”

Sirius shakes his head. He thinks it’s because they’re standing so close but he can’t scream anymore no matter how much he wants to. Instead, he whispers, “Don’t talk like that. This isn’t a favor.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You could never hurt us.”

“I would never forgive myself if–”

“We’d be safe, Re. We’d be helping you.”

“Sirius, you’re not hearing what I’m saying.”

Except Sirius is hearing what Remus is saying, he just doesn’t like it. Sirius wants to enter Remus’ brain and poke around until he makes him see sense. More than anything, Sirius wants to make the most horrible thing Remus has to go through incredibly too often suck less, because no one in the world deserves to endure horrible transformations on full moons, but especially not Remus.

Sirius wants to say all of this, and he looks Remus in the eye and opens his mouth to do just that, but nothing comes out. Because Remus is looking at him all heartbroken and somehow hopeful at the same time and Sirius has never seen anything more breathtaking in his life. He doesn’t know what’s come over him and he swears he’s still angry and furious but Sirius feels like he’d implode if he doesn’t kiss Remus this fucking instant. And, oh, that is a thought. 

Sirius is too angry to care, and he’ll scream some more after the fact, so he leans the tiniest bit closer and it may be his mind fucking him over but he swears Remus does the same, and they’re breathing in the same air and–

“This took us forever to find but– oh.”

Sirius jumps. He turns around and sees James and Peter standing in front of him. James is grinning and Peter is holding an enormous ancient-looking book.

“If I knew that making out with Remus was all that it took to make him change his mind I would’ve done it myself.”

“That’s not–”

“James! You–”

“It’s safe!” Peter says, cutting Remus and Sirius off and hitting Sirius’ chest with the book. Sirius yanks the book from Peter’s grip. “Look at the bookmarked pages.”

Remus is blushing when he takes the book from Sirius the very next second. Sirius thinks he’s blushing as well. “You shouldn’t dog ear library books, Peter, ”Remus mumbles as he starts flipping through.

Sirius chances a look at James and he immediately looks away because he can’t handle that much self-satisfaction right now. Only then does Sirius realize that it’s safe. He looks at James again and grins. 

This is Sirius’ most favorite day, for more reason than one.

[qkmlh]

Still ducking hilarious to me that Zoro & Sanji began their beef because they thought the other was misogynistic and it came to a head of no return when Zoro felt his title of ‘Luffy’s specialest boi’ threatened by Sanji’s comment

[mothric]

mob psycho 100 has impressed me on multiple counts but one thing that keeps standing out to me is the way Mob fills the role of Shonen Hero.

I love me a classic shonen protag. I love the hinata shoyos and the ash ketchums and the gokus, the spunky go-getters who are a little rough around the edges but want to be The Best at the Thing, or Save the World, or Win the Championship. I also love the protags who are reluctantly shoved into the role of Hero and must stumble their way into accepting it, whether or not they actually wanted it at first.

Mob isn't any of those. he doesn't start out as a bundle of boundless energy and optimism. his goal is not to be a hero or to subvert the trope by Resisting the Call. in fact, in the beginning, there isn't a Call. there is no Grand Quest for him to set out on. he's just... a kid, who happens to have psychic powers, and his goal is just to figure out who he is and what he wants and where his place is in the world. that's his hero's journey, really.

Mob doesn't come prepackaged with ambition; he has to work to unearth it. he has to figure out that he has any agency in the first place, and then use that agency to figure out what he wants. he has to handpick his own goals, and he has to choose growth. and he does choose growth, over and over. that in itself is a heroic feat. man, there are whole adults who won't do the internal work this kid does to figure himself out and adapt to new information! we constantly see him meet people who act and think so differently from him, and really think about the things they say and do, and learn something valuable in the process. we continually see him waking up to various aspects of himself, and clarifying his convictions, and adapting the ways he moves through the world, and taking on a more solid shape as a person. we continually see him choosing.

his growth is so organic, and natural, and marked by an increasing sense of self-possession, that by the time he gets to do Big Impressive Heroic Shonen Things, it feels earned. Mob Shigeo Kageyama has come into himself, and he must face some truly terrifying things, but he reaches out to meet them with both hands because he's already learned to meet his own personal challenges and the people in his life in the same way.

Mob doesn't start out as a Shonen Hero, but by the end of season 2 he IS one, because he earned it. he chose it, worked for it, grew into it, and it looks incredible on him.

[meiloorunsmoothie]

ever feel like you're missing something important, and then realize it's seeing a war crime committing, borderline insane droid from a disney xd animated star wars "kids" show on your screen every day?

no? just me? okay.