Tumgik
#Not-so Special Text Posts
scketchtoomblur · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
The Sleeping Girl sidequest is now out! I did some sprites for it, so check it out (also just check it out in general lol) Update your game with the Patcher, also there are Mystery Gift Pokemon up right now!
(Also if you're just starting the game I sprited the new Language screen that pops up)
14 notes · View notes
emrysofealdor · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Merthur (3) | BBC Merlin + Textposts/Tweets (27/?)
6K notes · View notes
demigods-posts · 10 months
Text
imagine percy inviting annabeth over to dinner after the sea of monsters and him introducing her to his mom as his best friend. imagine annabeth trying not to cry tears of joy because no one has ever called her that. imagine as she leaves to head back to camp that night, she does tear up a little when she explains to percy how much being called his best friend meant to her. imagine percy from that point forward calling her his best friend any chance he gets because he knows how happy it makes her.
2K notes · View notes
hoss-bonaventure · 4 months
Text
nat and jackie’s relationship drives me NUTS! you’re telling me that nat was the one who buried her bones? the one who wrapped her so delicately in cloth and carried her across feet of snow just to make sure she’s at rest? the one who sat down with her in the wreckage of the plane and give her the most meaningful sendoff she could’ve gotten? nat didn’t NEED jackie the way those girls did. they way they wanted her was carnivorous and clinical, one-sided. they ripped away her sanctity, her autonomy, her literal flesh. they feasted on her and tore her from shred to shred because even in death, jackie gives. nat didn’t NEED to put jackie at rest, but she did because she knows what’s it’s like. after all, isn’t nat also just a pile of bones in the middle of the forest, just giving and giving and giving? nat didn’t NEED to give jackie that good-bye, but she did cause she’s a giver and a lover and she knows that’s going to kill her the way it killed jackie.
675 notes · View notes
no-light-left-on · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A Day in the Life of Jelly, the Whaler Wolfhound
my @dishonoredgiftexchange gift for @exalok, I hope you like my take on a small peek in the life of an old, overly affectionate puppy
you can very much ignore the dialogue
273 notes · View notes
butterflysonnets · 4 months
Text
yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.
to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!
i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.
also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.
they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.
they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.
i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.
#eve text#elmike#stranger things#byler#only tagging byler because i feel like yall will like this take lol#tagging tagging tagging WHAT ARE EVERYONE ELSE'S THOUGHTS#god i can't believe i'm making a post about stranger things. this feels like poking a bear#i'm not particularly anti m*leven but like... they'd have to do something pretty special at this point for me to feel like it's viable#i'm seeing the bts of s5 and it's got me Having Thoughts#elmike friendship is something i am so passionate about#even before i ever liked byler (didn't ship at all until s4 even though i knew it was a thing before) i've felt this way about elmike#i always believed they were close friends at heart and needed to break up#the romance part of them felt very distinctly young and very much “he was a boy she was a girl” to me#and it hasn't deepened into anything more mature and i don't see how it could based on the current state of the writing...#the fact that lumax exists — a young relationship that is actively maturing and is healthy — makes that clear to me#and the “love confession” in s4 and how disingenuous and miserable it felt was just the nail in the coffin#also the fact that will (who is IN LOVE with mike) was instrumental in making it happen? ... uh... okay... interesting choice…#fucked up and reductive if they make it another queer unrequited love sacrifice for the sake of pushing the heterosexual agenda YUCK#so i really hope the speculation about a m*leven breakup is real!! i think it just makes sense for their characters but who knows#i don't believe in the notion of love at first sight or one true love and i think the writers don't too???#love to me is an accumulation of experiences and we inevitably choose it at some point rather than fall into it... but idk#tv is so fixated on keeping couples together... sometimes it's just not reality guys especially with young people... LET IT GO...#like i said though i'm not 100% sold that they're going to give up their “golden couple” LMAO#stranger things hasn't historically subverted too many tropes if i'm being honest#anyway i seriously need this season to come out quickly... i'm so bored and getting my master's is crushing my soul#i need frivolity#ALSO btw i won't respond to hateful messages about this so please don't bother. it's not that serious. this is a netflix show
148 notes · View notes
mearcatsreturns · 4 months
Text
I have a bookstagram, and I recently followed someone because they posted about the overconsumption issue that most bookish social media seems to have. Today, though, they posted another controversial "opinion": that listening to audiobooks isn't reading, and people who claim to have read a bunch of books that they listened to as audiobooks are lying and/or deluded. Listening to audiobooks, she said, is just consuming books.
I disagreed in a fairly politely worded reply, and I intend to unfollow/block, because I find it unlikely this person will change their mind, especially since I'm far from the only person to point out that this is exclusionary and ableist. But this is tumblr/my house, and now I'm going to be as blunt as I want to be.
I'm a librarian and archivist. So much of the work I and others in my field do focuses on making books and reading more accessible and less exclusionary. It is, in fact, incredibly ableist to negate how important audiobooks are for people who have certain disabilities or challenges, and I would in no universe say they aren’t reading. For that matter, a busy person who only has time for audiobooks and for people who just prefer them--it still counts, as far as I'm concerned.
See, there's a difference between an audiobook and a podcast or long song or radio program. An audiobook is still a book--it was written with a particular narrative structure, and the author plays a defined but limited role (once the book is written, it's written; the author isn't tuning in next episode with comments and corrections based on what listeners said). An audiobook is a book, ergo, listening to one is reading. Using braille is reading, and listening to audiobooks is reading.
The part that has me in full Captain Raymond Holt "apparently that is a trigger for me" mode is that this bookstagrammer called listening to audiobooks consumption. In the context of her other posts about overconsumption as an issue in the bookish community (again, agree, but also...mind your own business), this seems particularly insidious to me. Conflating influencer-driven (and capitalist hellscape) consumption with listening to an audiobook (again, a massive boon for the visually impaired and those with disabilities like ADHD, dyslexia, etc.) is rude at best and dangerously exclusionary at worst. Stop letting comparison be the thief of joy; mind your own business and stop looking at the pages that bother you. Focus on the kindness of leaning towards inclusion, meeting people where they are, and leaving judgment behind.*
*This person also said "feel free to comment if you disagree but please don't be mean or judgmental," as if they hadn't just posted the most ableist and judgmental sludge I've seen today.
tl;dr: don’t be a gatekeeping shithead, mind your own business, and
Tumblr media
(gif by matalyn on tenor, couldn't find on tumblr)
140 notes · View notes
misspoetree · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
KinnPorsche + Text Posts: Breastie Edition
[Shoutout to @kinnbig because I totally stole the idea for the Ken one from a reblog tag 😂❤]
[Character Editions: Pete Part I & II | Vegas Part I & II & III | Tay | Tankhun - Part I | Big | Porsche Part I & II | Kim | Porchay | Chan | Kinn Part I & II | Macau | Pol]
[Themed Editions: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | ?]
[Episode Editions]
762 notes · View notes
plistommy · 1 month
Text
Steve waking up from a nightmare and Billy holding him after will always have such a soft spot in my heart…
He’d kiss Steve’s forehead and tell him that everything will be okay, that he was here to keep Steve safe and no one could hurt him or the people he loved as long as Billy was around. Steve would laugh softly at that.
He’d hold Steve till the sun starts to creep its way through the blinds, Steve’s back to his chest as the boy finally falls asleep relaxed in Billy’s arms.
93 notes · View notes
oc-center · 1 month
Text
I just. *clenches fist*
Love OCs So Much
86 notes · View notes
oatberrytea · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Ofelia Robles is the only child of Diego and Luna Robles. Luna, always a little fragile of health, passed shortly after Ofelia's birth leaving behind an immense unfillable void in the hearts of her family; because of this, Ofelia has always felt as though she's walking around with only one shoe on.
Diego never fully recovered from Luna's death which created a feeling of longing and sorrow that hung like a cloud over Ofelia's childhood. Ofelia was a serious child, quiet and watchful, unknowing how to make her father smile but wanting to more than anything. Eventually, Diego's mother, Lucia, came to live with them and it was the first time Ofelia felt that things would be okay.
Ofelia likes stories, having heard countless from her grandmother growing up, she escapes through them as an adult through reading, but only for a short time, at night before bed, because during the day she's a hard and dedicated worker on the ranch. She loves horses but none more than her own horse, Bebita, a rescue that she's training to show at the local rodeo.
Ofelia may not have any experience with romance but not for lack of wanting it, it just took her a while to figure out what she liked. Now she wonders if she might have missed the opportunity for love and thinks perhaps she wasn't meant for it, not that kind at least.
As a grown, mature woman, Ofelia is intense, enigmatic, introverted, a self-proclaimed recluse and hard-working. She has a small circle of people she cares for and is disinterested in growing it. Despite attempts from her best friend to put herself out there Ofelia has been an immovable object…if only there were some unstoppable force that could budge her from her stagnation.
195 notes · View notes
scketchtoomblur · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
I don't care if there's nothing to suggest this right now, I think it's funny to post it anytime a new season is starting
13 notes · View notes
tunastime · 10 months
Text
no place for strangers
in which BigB realizes that there are a significant number of difference sbetween him and his friends, and in which BigB decides he doesn’t really care that much.
(2333 words)
A portion of the night sky, night for only a fraction of time, is blotted out by the shape of two dark, mottled-grey wings. 
He supposes he's a little jealous of that, the wings, how they shed loose feathers, how they flutter and swish and practically make no noise at all when extended. He's a bit jealous of Grian, known Watcher, much more powerful, hands twisted in the reigns of his own creation—the games. He's as much a pawn in this one as he has been in the others. But unlike BigB, he's hungry. The killing doesn't do it for him. Neither does the dying. Grian’s new—the Watchers don’t let him stay full. They chastise him for a million things and make sure he suffers, and at this point, BigB watches it happen. There isn’t much left he can do. He does less Watching and more supervising.
Maybe he's jealous of Pearl, with thin black and gold wings like a moth, ears wispy and pointed up toward the sky. The way her drooping eyes never dim, the way they both glow, silver and gold. She’s got it just as good as him, doesn’t she? Secretive and distant. Away enough to matter but not enough to cause a fuss.
But maybe he isn't. Isn't there something lurking behind his eyes when he stares at his reflection too long? Wouldn't redstone glow in his presence? Wouldn't the forest go silent and the earth hold its breath as he waited, as he watched? Wasn't there the purple remnant of where he once stood?
It doesn't matter. BigB stares up at the messy splotch that is Grian against the night sky and sighs something profound. He tried to understand him. To love him. But Grian is a widow, and everyone that loves him suffers the same. They just have, actually. Joel and Jimmy. And now Grian perches and watches and BigB watches him and there's a muted sting behind his eyes as he does. Grian doesn't turn. But his wings flutter.
"Good to know that some things stay the same," BigB says, cutting through the warm night air with a voice he hopes matches it, but he isn't sure. Grian hums, mostly questioning. His feet stay planted. BigB starts to scale the wall.
"Don't know what you mean by that," Grian questions. He turns his head slightly to the sound of BigB climbing the ladder to the top, but doesn't do much else.
"You," BigB huffs. He rests his hands on the top of the wall, pulling himself over the flat edge. He swings his legs over, and his heels bounce against the cobbles. It’s an uncomfortable resting place. He watches Grian shift from foot to foot, and wonders if the same cobbles are digging into the soles of his feet, the same way they dig into the underside of BigB’s thighs. 
“Me?” Grian parrots. His eyes flick over to BigB, quick, but not so quick that BigB doesn’t catch the nervous glint of them. He rests back on his hands. The rough rock presses back against his palms, cold and uncomfortable. Luckily, the air around them is thick with humidity, heat, and a faint metallic smell. And the hum of cicadas. Their drone blocks out everything else, except the words bouncing around in BigB’s head.
"You're still no good at the emotions thing, are you?" he asks. He tilts his head as he says it, cocking it to one side as he looks over at Grian. He watches Grian’s nose wrinkle, the beginnings of his teeth baring back, as if he could bite and make anything more than an impression. BigB almost laughs. He gets it, he really does. 
The thing about Grian is that he’s not an easy shape to love, and an even less easy shape to hold. Like every bird, he fears being caged, and arms are no more than a cage, and someone holding his heart is no more than a cage, so he can’t sit still, even now, even on the edge of a wall. BigB watches his wings twitch. They’re gorgeous, but there’s a sharp line through them where the flight feathers should be. They’re not much more than deadweight. Anyway—where was he? Right. Grian. Impossible to love, impossible to hold. A widow, of sorts. The words tumbled out of Scar’s mouth one time, scorned and scoffed. Grian was no more than a widow mourning the first partner he took—Scar—trying to find someone who fit the hole but wasn’t him. 
But Grian kills. Who could say it was even his fault? Scar. BigB. Jimmy. Joel. Everyone he tries to love, in any shape, dies. He’s forced to starve. He’s forced to feed a higher cause. 
BigB can see Grian’s calloused fingers from here, at least the pale shape of them, balanced over his shins as his wrists drape over the sharp edge of his knee. He studies him in the dim lighting before he looks away, feeling something curdling in his stomach. BigB knows his time is short. Unremarkable. And normally forgotten. That doesn’t really bother him, though. He knows the importance of his impression, here. But he wants to tug this string, just once. He knows where all the strings lie—even his own, unfortunately. Maybe that’s the one thing he knows better than Grian—he’s aware of the outcome before it happens. He doesn’t have to stop to wonder what his odds are.
“That’s not nice,” Grian begins, and BigB shrugs. The cicadas stop singing. BigB’s voice cuts through the night like a knife, cool and even.
“I’m just being honest,” he starts. He watches the stone of the clock tower for movement, eyes flicking over the shape in the dark. “Jimmy and Joel just died and you’re already trying to replace them.”
Grian huffs. He sounds indignant, almost twinged with hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”
BigB raises his eyebrows, tilts his head again. Grian catches his eye for a second longer, this time, and his eyes are dark and wide. His jaw is tightly set. He looks like, at any moment, his lips might curl back and expose blunt, powerless teeth. BigB wonders what that might feel like—surely unpleasant, to have someone bite down on you with the intent to do harm, but he wonders if Grian could kill him on purpose and if it might rid him of anything. It might make the smell of guilt worse, actually.
“I think you do,” BigB says.
“Enlighten me, then,” Grian grits out, teeth closing around the words with a sharp snap. “Since I can feel you trying to figure me out.”
“Not me,” BigB says. Grian shuts his eyes, pinching his eyebrows together, before he twists his body around, fast enough to hear the slight pop of his spine as it cracks. BigB can feel the hair rise on the back of his neck as Grian searches, eyes scorching the earth for any sign of—
“Pearl—”
BigB hums, but it sounds more like a laugh.
“You’re just no good at it,” he says after a beat. Grian resettles, but his wings stay fluffed, body tight with tension. He radiates energy like a coil tightly wound. BigB can feel it seeping into the seams of him, and shifts as it prickles over his skin. He leans back on his hands a little further, hoping they can carry the weight. He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t know what that means, BigB,” Grian sighs, short and through his nose. His hair blows into his face. “What d’you—” He sighs again, cutting himself off with a wave of his hand. 
He seems annoyed about the whole prospect of their conversation. It’s not unfounded, honestly. BigB did just climb up the ladder and start unpacking years worth of issues in front of Grian, trying to dig at the soft, bleeding center of the thing. He’s pretty sure Joel’s blood is still under his fingernails. He’s not sure if he saw it all happen. He definitely didn’t see Jimmy’s body hit the ground. Lucky, that. He’s not sure if he could watch people so used to flying be unable to use their wings when they needed it most. He thinks he might’ve seen Joel in the moment before Jimmy disappeared—Joel who was never one to let fear and grief trump anger. Or maybe the anger was his grief, like it was Tango’s, or Scar’s. Not that he saw much of that, either. Stories, mostly, things that get passed around a dim campfire at the end of the world. 
Jimmy was probably just a near-lifeless body in Joel's arms, right before he was gone. Poor guy. Grian didn’t even get to them in time before it was too late. He was too late for Joel, too. Joel was ash before Grian could even make his mouth into the shape of his name. BigB wonders if they got a grave. Grian was good at building graves, so he’d like to think so. It only made sense. Grian seemed to get over it faster when there was something to mourn to.
BigB takes a second to think, pressing his tongue between his back teeth. The air is quiet around them, still, like it, too, holds the tension in Grian’s spine, like it might be twisting it taut. 
“You just don’t understand how it works, you’re not good at grieving, and you’re not good at the whole grief thing, either.” BigB shrugs again, shoulders lifting just enough to be visible. He’s still not watching Grian, as much as Grian isn’t watching him, aside from the hum of them both, something wholly inhuman brushing shoulders with something that craved humanity more than anything else in the world, but could never figure out how to get it. 
“You don’t get it.”
“I do.” Grian starts.
“No, you don’t,” BigB turns toward him, finally, furrowing his eyebrows. “Grian, dude—you’re faking this whole human thing to begin with, and it’s not working—”
Grian whips around to face him. His face is sharp, jaw set. “Stop—”
BigB waves him off. His voice, unlike Grian’s, stays level, twinged with annoyance, rather than anything else. 
“You don’t understand what you should be guilty of, but you’re feeling it like it’s like…rotting something inside of you but you still don’t know why, and jeez, Grian, you’ve made it a crime for you to feel something.” 
He sighs, waving his hands around as if it could help bolster his point any further. He feels something ache in his chest—something aching to explain it in a way that Grian could understand, in a way that he wouldn’t just fight. Grian visibly bristles, feathers on his ears rising, the red and yellow tips of them stark in the night, even in the lantern light. 
“You’re on this planet too, you know, you’re allowed to let yourself feel. Messy and gross as it is. I mean, they died, man, is that anything?”
Grian swallows. BigB doesn’t watch the bob of his throat, or the way his feathers are still raised in alert as he jerks his head away. He follows Grian’s line of sight down the clock tower, where Bdubs and Cleo are talking. Bdubs looks over after a second. BigB feels a cold line run down his spine, but refuses to break his gaze. There are no sounds now, not even of his own heartbeat.
“No,” Grian manages.
BigB relaxes. Something of an easy smile finds his face, softening the shape of his eyes and the line of his jaw. He shakes his head. Grian shies away from him, but his feathers lower, and his posture sinks. He finally lowers himself to a sit, throwing his legs over the side of the wall. His hands cradle in his lap, and he stares into the palms of them. BigB remembers them as calloused, cold, and hard to hold properly. But he’s sure someone out there enjoys them. 
“You’re a really bad liar,” he laughs. Grian shakes his head. His voice is much quieter as he speaks.
“I don’t care. I don’t care.”
BigB turns his head. There, for a short moment in the moonlight, he watches the shape of Grian’s left shoulder turned toward him. They rise and fall as he breathes, shudder when he sniffs and sighs, move as he shifts his body, likely feeling those same, cold, hard cobbles pressing into the soft back of his legs. He sees where the back meets the wing, where the wing relaxes down and where feathers brush stone. He sees where they rest against the cobbles, half held and half upright, as if he wants to be ready to leap at a moment's notice. As if he doesn’t know that he, too, would die on impact. BigB reaches out, settling one soft hand on his shoulder. Grian tenses, but does not jump. 
“‘S alright, buddy.”
Instead, Grian deflates. BigB runs his thumb over the side of his shoulder, a friendly, comforting thing, as Grian leans back to his hand. His posture sinks to the touch, muscles weakening, wings folding back and down. Every molecule of his body, and BigB almost feels this in the air, grows heavy and tired at the subtle comfort. Grian draws what he can from it before he speaks. His voice sounds even, now, and tired.
“I miss them…” He starts. He swallows. “I missed you, too. I missed Scar.”
BigB sighs, giving Grian’s shoulder a long, warm squeeze before he lets go. Grian sways but catches himself on his hands. His body stays curved into itself. 
“I know,” BigB says. “But you’ll never be over it if you never break that cycle.”
Grian shrugs. The steel starts to slip back into his voice, firm. 
“I will when I win.”
BigB smiles.
“Maybe,” he says. He’s not sure he can see the end of that string yet, but the results don’t exactly look promising. “Who knows what’s in the cards?”
258 notes · View notes
crismakesstuff · 3 months
Text
everytime I see someone bitch and moan about “the animation in invincible sucks” “they should treat the animators the same way MAPPA does”
i just ,,,,,
Tumblr media
maybe we should sit YOU down in front of the computer and id like to see YOU animate smoothly and cleanly at 12-24 fps since y’all want that so bad !
102 notes · View notes
caliphoria17 · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
147 notes · View notes
spiritofjustice · 4 months
Text
He loves birds so much I’m gonna cry
63 notes · View notes