#... there's a little too much going on lmao

[dapper-lil-arts]

If Fluttershy had Whatsapp 🤣🤣🤣

[numbuh424]

met up with my biggest hater at the yellow box warehouse

[deep-space-lines]

in case anyone was wondering where I disappeared to for the past few days, i've been going insane again. fun fact staring at stained glass windows for hours on end will not turn you catholic (source: i stared at so many stained glass windows to make this bc i really wanted to go for a realistic church window sort of vibe)

tumblr is a coward and won't let me upload the full size images so you can look at them and zoom in to your heart's content (please look at them. please) [1] [2]

Prints of this are available on my Society6 (both versions cuz I'm indecisive) (it may take a little while for them to actually appear on the site)

Details:

Timelapse under the cut!

my favorite part of this is when I'm trying to get the pose down and I keep flipping the canvas and it looks like they're doing a silly little dance :)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[padmesbox]

just Hangman beefing with kids in the crowd [from Native Gaming on yt]

[darth-does-stuff]

ok everybody saying dan fucks is conrad’s dad you do you but for ME personally the fix will always be conrad’s dad because dan gives cool uncle vibes 1000000% percent more than the fix ever will. but we will both live our truth and we will both be happy 🤝

[cementcornfield]

the thing i'm learning about being a sports fan is just.... you really have no control over this thing that you love so much and you've invested so much time/energy/emotion in! and that is so hard to accept! you can do all your little good luck rituals, you can critique the players and the coaching and the scheme to hell and back, you can learn as much as you can about how the game works....but it doesn't change a thing. all you can do is sit there and watch the players do the best they can! (and even then there's only so much each individual player can control!)

you just have to practice radical acceptance i guess! what's gonna happen will happen and you just have to sit back and enjoy as much of it as you can 🫠🫠

[cuubism]

I see your "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make me have feelings for Hob!!'" and raise you "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make Hob have feelings for me!!'" because it's the only logical explanation for why Hob would claim to want someone like Dream

[ cat screaming crying . jpg ]

Dream storms into Desire’s realm, steps thudding on the uneven floor, rage propelling him forward. He cannot remember ever feeling such anger, such betrayal towards his sibling, not even when he had learned they were behind his imprisonment.

Desire’s games have always gone too far, but this is beyond trying to teach him a lesson, this is beyond what Dream can reconcile, this is simply cruelty.

“YOU,” he thunders, the air shaking around him as he stalks up to where Desire is lying casually on a chaise lounge as if they haven’t just ripped Dream’s one comfort in this life out from under him. “How dare you.”

“Brother, dear,” drawls Desire, popping a grape into their mouth with not a care in the world, “it is rude to simply fly in without even knocking on the door. You wouldn’t like it if I did it to you.”

Blind with fury, Dream grabs them by the throat and hauls them to their feet. Desire lets out a choked gasp, genuinely startled by his vitriol. Their pulse trips under Dream’s thumb.

Desire cannot be killed through something as simple as strangulation, but it truly is tempting to try. “What,” Dream snarls, grip tightening, “what have you done to Hob Gadling?”

Desire blinks at him, torn from their alarm by confusion. “Whomst? Listen, I know you know everybody’s name and their kinkiest fantasy but I honestly can’t be bothered with the details, you’re going to have to fill me in.”

The rage in Dream’s core only flares hotter. “Enough of this charade, you know exactly what you’ve done.”

“No, seriously, I have no idea what you’re—”

Dream whirls away, leaving his sibling staggering in the wake of his grasp. “Was it not enough?” he demands, staring sightlessly into the gleaming red curves of Desire’s realm. “Was the vortex not enough? Was a century of imprisonment not enough for you?” His voice cracks halfway through, and it’s mortifying. “Truly, your hatred of me is untempered by even the slightest compassion.”

Desire’s voice is quizzical when they next speak. “I am starting to wish I was behind whatever this is that seems to have pierced you straight through the heart. I’m afraid my own arrows have missed that organ thus far.”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream insists, but Desire’s seemingly-genuine confusion has him wavering. It’s not like them not to revel in their own victory, and oh, this has been a victory, Dream feels laid lower than even a century in a cage had managed. “You are manipulating him.”

“Once again, I don’t know who that is. But he’s clearly excellent ammunition so I’m certainly going to find out once you leave.”

Dream flexes his hands at his sides, summoning his control. If Desire truly was not behind this, then he’s already made a mistake in coming here. Best not to offer anything else.

Being in Desire’s realm makes this stoicism difficult. The very space brings emotions to the surface, drags feelings up from his stomach that he’s tried so very hard to tamp down. He tastes blood at the back of his throat, his stomach churns, his skin prickles with sweat.

Desire stalks up behind him, sensing all of this. “Now I am curious,” they murmur, dragging a finger up his shoulder, over the collar of his coat and along the back of his neck. “Now I must know what’s go you so riled up.”

“You think you have earned such things?” Dream says through gritted teeth. His heart is pounding hard and uneven such that it physically hurts in his chest, the weight of the Threshold bearing down.

“No need to earn, you can hide nothing from me here.” Desire circles around him to his front, dragging their finger along his collarbone until it lands right at the base of his throat. They look at him from under their lashes, all smug satisfaction. “You are all tangled up in the realm of Desire, aren’t you?”

Dream moves to storm off, but Desire blocks him, nails pressing into his skin.

“Nah-ah, no running away. Let your little sibling help you, hm? As you may know, I am rather wise in matters of the heart.”

The look on Desire’s face is craftiness, glee, not charity or wisdom.

“I neither need nor wish for your assistance,” says Dream, voice hard. “On this, or any other matter.”

“But there is a matter.” Desire leans in and speaks right in his ear. “I can smell the heartsickness on you, Dream.”

There is nothing Dream can say in response to this. Any denial would only be read as falsehood, for Desire does not lie – of late, Dream feels sick with wanting in Hob’s presence, hunger so sharp it turns over into nausea, much like the first time Hob had pushed him to eat after his captivity. How cruel, then, to have his pain eased, his desires sated by a reciprocation that cannot possibly be truly felt.

There is nothing to say, so Dream doesn’t speak. Silence, of course, is its own answer.

“You know, if there’s one thing I have always admired about you, big brother, it’s your willingness to destroy yourself for the sake of passion,” Desire continues. “You’d think that’d be my sort of thing. Who’ve you lost yourself on this time? Demigod? Demon? Dryad? Vampire?”

Dream glares at them, but does not speak.

Desire’s face absolutely lights up as they realize. “Oh. My. God. Is he human? Dreeaaammmmm, my my, maybe your little time out did change you, after all.”

Dream turns away, refusing to give them the satisfaction of confirming. Though he knows this reaction is also a confirmation.

Desire claps their hands. “Oh! I’m so proud of myself. Look at this! Look at the softness of your heart. Look how I can bruise it.”

Dream’s heart, indeed, gives a painful thump. “Should you dare to touch him, even the old laws will not protect you.”

Desire sighs, flopping back onto a couch, legs crossed, head propped in their hand. “Why bother? You’ll destroy it yourself, and that’ll be much more fun.”

I hate you, Dream thinks, like a petulant child. He hates, also, how any argument with Desire makes him feel that way, feelings crowding at the surface of his skin, throat tightening, mind spinning in a chaotic churn. His muscles clench so hard he thinks they might have snapped, were he human, then he forces himself back into a semblance of ease.

There is no extracting himself from this situation with any dignity.

“Interfere with my affairs again,” he warns darkly, “and I will destroy you.”

Then he storms out of the Threshold.

“Love you too!” Desire calls after him, a grin in their voice. “Good luck with your human!”

--

When he’d found Hob at the New Inn, thirty-three years after he’d meant to arrive, Dream had not known how he might be received. Friendship extended once may not be extended again after so brutal a rejection, and so prolonged an absence, no matter that the latter offense was not within his control.

Being met with a smile, then, and an easy acceptance of his apology, like Hob had already forgiven him long before Dream had stepped through the door, had been a revelation. Something had settled in him that he had not known was knocked askew. Could there, truly, be one thing in his life that was allowed to be easy? Where Dream’s missteps were not met with scorn or vitriol or world-shaking consequences, but with grace and the chance to try again?

It seemed improbable, but still Dream had grabbed for it with cold, shaking fingers. Had held that unlikely flame between his palms. Had watched as it grew, hotter and brighter with each smile Hob sent his way, with each gentle brush of fingers as he pressed cups of tea into Dream’s hands, with the hug Hob finally managed to wind him into, once Dream had told him of the true reason for his absence in 1989.

Hob’s grace, Hob’s generosity in inviting someone, something like him into his home, into his life… Dream did not quite know how to hold it, so unlikely it was. He tried, though, oh he tried. And he swore he would not mess it up, not like he had when Hob had first offered his friendship.

He has now, quite royally, messed it up.

He very much doubts Hob will be so generous this time.

He finds Hob where he left him, sitting on the couch in his flat, a book in his hand. He doesn’t seem to be concentrating on it; his thoughts feel scattered in ragged, disturbed daydreams.

He doesn’t even startle when Dream materializes next to him. Though he knows it can be startling to humans, Dream has not been able to break himself of just appearing where he needs to – traversing the long way from point to point is not how he works. But aside from the occasional, teasing, I have a door, you know, Hob never truly complains about these disturbances to his day.

Dream means to offer him an apology. To say, I should not have walked out when you said that you loved me. To say, I am supposed to be better, I am trying to be better.

Instead, just as Hob looks up, the words that trip out of Dream’s mouth, pushed by the flurry of Desire’s realm still pounding within him, are, “Did you speak truly, Hob Gadling?”

Which is a ridiculous question. Dream does not think he has ever heard Hob speak a lie. Still, Dream must have the answer.

Hob’s expression shifts through several incarnations, none of which Dream feels capable of reading. Finally, it settles on the same soft, exasperated understanding Dream remembers being presented with when he’d said, I know thirty years is truly quite late, at their reunion, before he’d told Hob why he was late.

Grace, then. He is to be offered grace, again.

His emotions are still so close to the surface that he has to physically swallow down what he feels about that.

“Of course, I did,” Hob says, and there’s a hint of nerves in it, but he pushes through, he always does. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

His gaze is genuine, open, and no, Desire had not lied – Hob’s feelings are no manipulation of theirs. And while it is tempting to search for other answers, spells or illusions or any number of other causes, Dream knows, deep down, that he will come up empty.

Hob’s feelings are true, are his truth, confounding though that is.

Dream no longer feels capable of holding any of this in his hands.

Instead, he kisses him.

It’s like he is pulled forward by a force outside his own body. He goes to Hob like he had gone to the sugar in the tea Hob had made him, that night at the inn when Dream had first realized how long it had truly been since he’d eaten; he goes to him like he had gone back to the Dreaming after being freed, returning home breathless, lost, changed.

Hob catches him against his mouth, hands cradling Dream’s face. His grip is solid and warm, and he kisses Dream like he looks at him like he speaks to him, with a care Dream hardly knows how to accept. He leans into it anyway, he leans in.

“I wasn’t fishing for a kiss when I said that, you know,” Hob says when they part, still lingering close enough that Dream can feel his heat, his breath. “I meant it in more of— well, that way, for certain, but really, any way you wanted to take it.”

“Any way,” Dream repeats, not sure he comprehends Hob’s meaning.

“Yeah, you—” Hob cuts himself off, letting out a breath, thinking. His hands slide from Dream’s face down to his shoulders, and he holds him there. “I. You just. I want you to know that you’re loved. Not demanding anything of it. Just telling you. Take it however serves you best.”

Dream stares at him, his whole being tripped and restarted at a new rhythm, and Hob gives him a sad smile.

“It’s too big to hold,” he says, and taps his chest. “In here. And besides, I wanted you to have it.”

Dream had had it. Only he hadn’t quite known what he had. The sunshine of Hob’s smiles, sustaining him, a bridge between distant points of light.

Finally, he manages to say, “I felt it. You have been my succor. My… only.”

Hob has captured him more effectively than Burgess’s snare, but this capture is not a prison. It hurts, oh, it aches, but it never wounds.

Hob smiles at him again. There’s still something pained in the creases around his eyes. “I know.”

He’s still touching Dream. His hands run over him, up his neck, over his throat, along his collarbone, and—

catch, on the collar of his shirt, above his heart.

“What happened?”

His voice is tight, now, worried, and— yes. There are bruises on Dream’s chest, crawling up over his breastbone. He had felt them form, and hadn’t stopped them.

Hob’s expression darkens further the longer he looks; he drags the collar of Dream’s shirt down, trying to see how far the damage spreads. “You’ve got bruises all over you. Dream, what happened?”

What happened is Dream stood in the Threshold and his heart beat so hard it drummed right through to the surface of his skin. What happened is it hurt so badly his form shifted to give reason for the pain.

“Desire,” he says, and he does not mean his sibling.

Hob doesn’t seem to understand, but he smoothes a hand over Dream’s heart as if to wipe the bruises away. Dream could will his body to return to its original, unharmed state, but he does not. He lets the blood stay pooled beneath his skin.

Hob sighs, tugging Dream’s coat tighter around him, shielding him from further injury. “Come here, you. You strange creature.”

He pulls Dream in, though he does not have to pull hard. Dream tucks his face into Hob’s neck, reveling in the warm scent of him, woodsmoke from the fireplace down in the inn where they’ve now spent many a long evening, basking in the heat of the flames. Hob’s arms go around him.

Absolution. Dream does not think this is a gift that has ever been granted to him.

“I would also love you,” he says. “If you would accept it.”

“If I would accept it?” Hob repeats. “Darling, your love is a privilege.”

Dream’s heart, in all its bruises and blood, finds rhythm again, and he thinks, though he certainly doesn’t pull away from Hob to check, that his skin clears up partway, too.

[sualne]

my voice has started to drop and ive been in a near constant state of gender euphoria this week :DD

[dapper-lil-arts]

uh oh!!!!

[clownsuu]

So, I noticed Emo Robbie has a little wiggling tail…. So the original Robbie has such a cute little, just a lovely tail. it's so sweet to know <3

sadly only emo has a lil tail, but Robbie with a tail is cute regardless!

[sixfromerie-art]

Oh look! It's everyone's favorite gila monster! ...Not that most people know many gila monsters... and to be honest, he really never looked a whole lot like a gila monster either 😐

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 772: A jersey never seen before!!

Pag 1

1: Those two are accelerating like they're right before the sprint line!!

Ruaaaagh

Ooooogh

3: Just now it was the second stage “shironeri”

4: Are you surprised, San-na? Obviously, once we get before the finish line, I'll pull out the sixth stage

5: “Golden yellow”!!

Pag 2 / 3

Who will win the title of fastest!?

The black horse Kiji Kyuui!!

Sohoku's Team SS who's aiming to be Japan's number one!!

Or Hakone Academy's Doubashi!!

Pag 4

2: Woah.... what incredible speed! Those two competing for the lead

You're right

Huh!?

3: It's Hakogaku VS Sohoku, you know, those two have the exact same cards – it's exciting

Of course Sohoku's Kaburagi is fired up for his revenge

Incredible, it's the same as last year

4: Oi, they're still coming!!

Ah?

They're chasing!!

Huh

5: They're chasing!?

What incredible energy!!

The one running in the front is from Sohoku, but there's someone else behind....

That jersey....

Pag 5

1: It's a jersey I've never seen before!! Who's that!!

Pag 6

1: It's not Hakogaku, and it's not Kyufushi either

I've never seen them before, is it their first time participating this year!?

2: On his shoulder

3: it says “Gunma”

4: Yon

Gunma!?

5: Yon

Pag 7

1: Yon

3: He's coming up right behind me!!

4: But I won't let this guy go!!

I thought my part was over, but there's still work left to do!!

5: It's a simple thing

Pag 8

1: I just have to stop his legs from 30seconds to one minute!!

2: If I do that, then those two will have passed the sprint line!!

As long as the race is completely over!!

3: I'll make Issa have his revenge!!

4: This is the guy who that day

5: When we were practicing on Minegayama

6: Fell from the sky

Pag 9

1: On a mountain bike

2: The MTB two-times in a row champion!! Gunma Ryosei's Kiji Kyuui!!

Yon

Pag 10

1: And of course he's riding a road bike today!!

2: Road bikes are nice, you know

They're light, they react quickly, there's less loss of mechanical transmission

3: The thing that's most different from mountain bikes is that the road surface isn't uneven but flat

4: Alright, he's clinging to me!!

From now on it's a race! I'll gain time!! I'll stop him!!

5: And, you know, whenever you want

Freely

Pag 12

1: You can accelerate at your own timing!! Yon!!

Ugh!!

2: He got me!!

What was that just now!! He definitely turned his body like he was going right!!

3: I reacted thinking he was going to attack from the right

4: A “feint”!!

5: And from a slanted stance like that he moved straight forward?

6: The left side was narrow, there was nothing but the ditch cover

Pag 13

1: And this guy jumped forward no matter the situation!!

Dammit!!

Pag 14

1: Immediately after clinging to me from the back!!

2: When road bikes cyclists, after a solo run, approach someone from behind

3: they always take shelter from the wind behind them

4: To rest their legs!! At least for 10-30 seconds

5: That guy did it for less than 3 seconds!!

Higaruaaa

6: Dammit, so there's guys who can have their legs recover in just 3 seconds!?

Pag 15

2: This time I'll cling to him!!

Pag 16

1: Three seconds are enough, aren't they?

3: Mountain bike is a sport where you have to continuously produce high output of energy on your own

4: In comparison, in road race, where you can rest behind someone and use them to get ahead, you only need to put out power for a split seconds

5: Really

6: Road racing is full of excitement and learning! It's really....

Pag 17

1: Fun!! Yon!!

2: He accelerated in the curve!!

Pag 18

2: He's controlling the bike's frame tilting it just at the right angle to not let the pedals....

3: hitting the road!!

4: The “tires”!!

I heard that in MTB the control of the tires is essential!!

Is he applying that to road racing!? Dammit!!

5: But!!

6: I wasn't in the SS team for nothing!!

7: I can do something like that too

Pag 19

2: Ruwa-

3: The pedal hit the road!!

Pag 20

3: Ugh!!

Number 5 lost his balance!

He's losing speed

Ugh!! I'll make Issa have his revenge.....

4: I heard a loud noise, are you okay?

6: Huh

Pag 21

1: Stay safe

2: …. he worried about me.... and then left.... taking his time... so that's... Kiji Kyuui!!

4: Hahaha, San-na!!

Pag 22

1: This is the third stage!!

“Pale yellow”!!

2: You're fast..... aren't you strong?

Really, Orange

3: Honestly, when I first heard two of you were coming up, I was disappointed

“This year too, huh”, I thought

4: But turns out it's an equal one-on-one race!!

Pag 23

1: This is the best, Orange!!

You're the most serious guy!!

Let's do it!! A full throttle battle!!

2: I'll take you on!! But I told you earlier!! You don't know my “golden yellow”, you'll lose!!

3: There are 2km left until the finish line!!

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[chayannesegg]

honestly I think it’s kinda interesting how phil’s relationships with wilbur, tallulah, chayanne & tubbo are all reflecting back into his view of sunny tbh. like he has such complex delicate interwoven dynamics with all of them and it all gets thrown onto sunny, this poor kid who he loves in theory, but in practice is a stranger to him. 

like wilbur left tallulah in phil’s care and didn’t come back. even now way after he was initially supposed to, wilbur hasn’t returned (that one day aside). and phil, who had already taken on a big commitment watching tallulah, has been left permanently with two eggs in his sole care. and even though he loves tallulah and wil, and won’t want them out of his life, this is a stress for him. it’s a big undertaking for anyone, to care for two kids alone, but especially since tallulah required a lot of changes in his life.

for better or worse, in many ways phil sees chayanne as an extension of himself. they’re similar in a lot of ways, and often on the same page, and it means phil often struggles to catch up when chayanne’s emotions aren’t on the same page as him. we’ve seen this week, phil having such a hard time understanding the depth and breadth of chayanne’s grief. when he catches on, he usually does a good job empathising and talking it through, but when he doesn’t, he really doesn’t and it can be hard to watch. 

the same is NOT true for tallulah. he has, through hard work and practice, learnt how to identify her emotions. he had to. she needed it. she would have been miserable otherwise. she desperately needed asked for the emotional care and birthdays and consideration that chayanne would never ask for. and he’s good at it—tracking her moods, knowing what upsets her & what she cares about in a way that doesn’t come as naturally with chayanne (or sunny or tubbo or anyone else really expect maybe wilbur). but that took A LOT of time and effort, months of work, and I do think he’s a bit wary of the idea of having to do that again, even when it comes to people he loves like chayanne (or god forbid tubbo).

now tubbo is not wil. tubbo is not phil's son. but he’s still not dissimilar to wil in phil’s mind. whatever the backstory is, phil introduces tubbo to tallulah as an old friend of him and wil’s. he makes tubbo his kids’ godfather. he calls tubbo his boy. he looks out for him. but past those first few weeks, their relationship doesn’t progress. they mean a lot to each other bc of their pasts, but they don’t put any work into upkeeping their relationship and phil in particular doesn’t reflect at all on what how that changes their dynamic. and it does change it—this is clear in purgatory, with phil having zero trust in tubbo to protect chayanne and tallulah, and after, with tubbo endlessly poking at phil’s sore spots trying to illicit a reaction he’ll never receive. 

it's also clear in the way phil has no understanding of what’s going on with tubbo. if he’s struggling to grasp chay’s emotions, he’s not even touching what’s going on in tubbo’s head. tubbo’s death makes no sense to him. it’s sudden. it’s random. it’s illogical. it’s stupid. he wasn’t joking about having two lives? he still took a death bet with richas? he’s not come back? he can’t come back? he’s left phil with distraught kids for no reason with no warning. he doesn’t see the erratic suicidal behaviour, the unending depression, the desperation to be loved. he doesn’t want to see it. he doesn’t want something to be wrong with tubbo, but he also doesn’t even know how to see what’s wrong. he’s annoyed he’s having to deal with it and he desperately desperately wants to believe this is all happening for no reason.

bc at the forefront of phil’s mind is still his love for tubbo. of course, phil would drop everything to help tubbo (if he could recognize something was wrong). of course, he would care for sunny as his own. of course, he would make the same sacrifices he’s made for wil. and he assumes he’ll have to. he thought that sunny would now be under his care. that he’d have to figure out the logistics of a third egg to care for. with wilbur, phil was the only person who could ever have taken care of tallulah. the only person he trusted, the only person who knew tallulah enough. now this isn’t true for tubbo. it’s a genuinely illogical assumption for phil to make: three eggs would be a genuine burden on him; they've never spoken about it; there’s a long list of people who would tubbo expects for sunny before; and he doesn’t even know sunny well enough to name these people for her as comfort.

but still in the moment, alone with tubbo’s eggs and dealing with everything he left behind, phil can only think that the exact same thing that happened before will happen: he alone will be left to care for another scared hurt kid of someone he loves.

and here we come to sunny. a kid whose dad he loves. a kid whose dad he doesn’t understand. a kid whose dad is suddenly gone like his son is gone. a kid who would need him like his daughter needs him. a kid who his son needs to protect. a kid he cares for. a kid he can’t afford to care for, a kid he wasn’t expecting to care for, a kid he doesn’t know how to care for, a kid he would care for if he needed to, a kid he doesn’t know why he’s been left to care for. a kid who is somehow a reflection of all these people he loves but not someone he knows at all.

idk i think this tension comes out in the a lot of the comments phil makes of and to sunny. he doesn't know them well enough to distinguish them from his relationships with other people. and as long as no one challenges him on that, we'll continue to hear these misplaced comments from him, that come across so insensitively, even as he tries his best to genuinely help them and their dad.