#GOOGLE TOO

[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

[pisscreant]

had a vivid dream where there was a "play as Kim" mod and I was super excited

after like 2 mins gameplay Harry just turned around looking scandalised and was like "Ohgod... It's me, Kim. *I'm* Grandpa Piss!"

he refused to elaborate even after I savescummed and exhausted all dialogue options

then a notification flashed like "THOUGHT GAINED: GRANDPA PISS" and I went to the thought cabinet screen. all it said was "What the fuck does he mean by that."

[gingermintpepper]

I think, perhaps one of the funniest things to come from EPIC popularising the Odyssey is that now a ton of people think Poseidon wanted to kill Odysseus.

In the Odyssey, Poseidon has no intention of killing Odysseus. In fact, part of the whole reason Zeus lets Poseidon do whatever he wants even though he thinks Odysseus is rad and should get to kiss his wife is explicitly because Poseidon had no intentions of killing Odysseus. Poseidon wanted to pay back the suffering/inconvenience blinding Polyphemus would have caused. It's a really abstract thing tbh. How do you pay back someone permanently disabling your son? Poseidon's solution was just to amputate Odysseus from his other half; i.e. Penelope. The end game was never murder, it was always an endurance race.

(Od. Book 1: Zeus reassuring Athena that he is not, in fact, a part of Odysseus Hater-Nation. Trans. Robert Fagles)

Also, for those wondering if there's any sort of in text reason for why Poseidon wasn't around in God Games - at the time in the Odyssey when Athena petitions Zeus to let Odysseus leave Calypso's island, Poseidon was -checks notes- on vacation in Ethiopia. Yep. He left to Ethiopia for a festival and thusly was very much absent for Athena's whole "please let Ody go? Please? 🥺" request.

(Od. Book 1: While Odysseus was suffering, Poseidon went to party in the east)

I am begging y'all to read the Odyssey. It's a comedy for everyone except Odysseus and Penelope who are, in fact, suffering 24/7 365.

[frenzyarts]

Good news everyone :)

[turndecassette2]

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 2

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[shushmal]

Eddie sits and watches Steve’s kitchen clock slowly count closer and closer to their movie time—closer, then past. It’s 30 minutes gone from showtime when he hears the bathroom door upstairs close and shut, and Steve’s bedroom door quietly doing the same.

Wincing, Eddie counts down slowly from 100, lets Steve wallow for a bit, before he gets down from his stool to head up.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs, sitting beside the lump under Steve’s blankets. The lump does not reply. “Baby, you okay?”

“No,” it whines, and Eddie’s glad Steve has shoved his head under his pillow because Eddie can’t help cracking a smile. “I’m dying, and I’m a shitty boyfriend, and you’re going to dump me.”

Eddie scoffs. “The day I dump you is the day you send me to the funny farm,” he says, mock serious. “You do shit a lot though, babydoll.”

Steve whines louder. “It’s not fair! You eat expired hotdogs! Raw! Straight from the fridge!!”

“Guts of steel, Stevie! Your upper middle class suburban tummy would shrivel and die in the face of things I’ve eaten.”

“It’s shriveled and died already, thanks.”

Eddie laughs, and rubs his hand along Steve’s arm. He knows better than touching him anywhere else when Steve’s stomach is upset. But the fact that he’s in bed, under the covers, must mean the worst is over.

“You want me to get you anything?”

“New organs and a surgeon to put them in.”

“I was thinking more like water? Toast? Pepto?”

“A quick and painless death?”

“I’m afraid I can only offer you kisses and cuddles when you feel up for it. And the aforementioned consumable items.”

Steve’s head comes out from under the pillow and he squints at Eddie. His hair is standing up in wild spikes, and Eddie chews his lip to keep himself from laughing.

“Who the fuck says shit like aforementioned, you absolute dork.”

“You love me,” Eddie says, grinning.

Wrinkling his nose, Steve sighs, flopping back down on the bed. “I guess,” he admits, looking up at Eddie through his lashes with a little, miserable smile, and taking Eddie’s breath away. Even when he’s miserable and whiny, Steve remains the prettiest person Eddie’s ever had the luck to lay eyes on. “I guess I’ll take a water. And a kiss, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Eddie grins, leaning down. “Anything for you, princess.”

[assassin-artist]

messmer_gets_a_hug.png

[theoldkyokodied]

One wedding and three funerals

Background paintings under the cut

[quimser]

a white chrysanthemum for loyalty and grief

a black dahlia for brutality and betrayal

[glassrooibos]

JUNIOR YEAR HERE WE COME

[kazumist]

HANDLE WITH CARE .ᐟ

✩ — in which soshiro hoshina finds himself getting treated by his favorite nurse, you.

✩ — includes: soshiro hoshina x gn!reader. fluff. cw: mentions of blood and injuries, inaccurate use of medical terms ?? sorry i just used google uhm. wc: 990. established (secret !!!) relationship. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

✩ — note: i became obsessed with these two that i might just write a part two of reader treating him after the tachikawa base raid arc actually.

soshiro hoshina does not play favorites.

when it comes to his subordinates, at least.

when it comes to the medical team assigned to the tachikawa base, however, that is when he plays favorites (though you would never see the vice captain of the third division actually admit that; he prefers calling it his “preferences”). whenever he finds himself in the base’s infirmary, he will always look for you. and when he’s lucky, which on most occasions he is, then he’ll have you treat his wounds. it’s just something that hoshina has grown accustomed to whenever he finds himself there. nothing more, nothing less (a lie).

you were a special case for the vice captain. there was just something about the way you handled his wounds compared to others. call it picky, but he just prefers the gentle treatment that you give his wounds. (how come hoshina constantly prefers to be treated by you when others would treat him the same? isn't that part of your job in the first place?)

(the answer is simple—it’s simply an act of soshiro hoshina asking for some quality time, even if he’s all bruised and bloody.)

“i’m almost convinced that you do this on purpose sometimes.”

soshiro simply grins at you. you weren’t entirely wrong—but it’s not like hoshina asks himself to get hurt when he goes out on missions in the first place. he could handle himself pretty well; he has the high position of being the vice captain of the third division, for christ’s sake. but perhaps it is inevitable that even the vice captain would come out of a mission unscathed.

“i like the concern from you.”

you give him a lighthearted eyeroll, to which he only grins even wider. "i'm sure you do," yet that grin slowly dissipated as he winced slightly at the feeling of the alcohol touching the wound near his eyebrow. “sorry, did that hurt too much?” you asked him, worried that it might’ve stung too much for his liking. this type of close proximity was normal for you and him. after all, it’s not like this is the first time your face was this close to his—though those are times when hoshina feels rather affectionate with you rather than in pain due to some wound he got.

“nothing i can’t handle, love.” he says, recovering quite fast from the alcohol sting. he was then met with a gentle tap on the lips—hoshina knows it was a warning from you. “watch your words, vice captain.” you say, applying a small gauze pad to his wound and securing it with paper tape.

“can’t really help it when you look so pretty up close, sweetheart.”

you ignored his remark but soshiro could see the smile that tugged on your lips at the petname. you then moved on to his next wound, which is on his left shoulder. his expression softens as he watches you inspect his wound, a small amount of guilt bubbling up inside of him. “this is gonna need a little stitch,” you sighed, grabbing another cotton ball, pouring the right amount of alcohol on it, and preparing to gently dab it on the wound. “and this might hurt a bit again.” you give him a heads up.

“like i said, it’s nothing that i can’t handle,” he reassured. whether it’s you he’s reassuring or himself to convince himself, neither of you really know. he hissed slightly when the cotton ball came into contact with his skin; it was barely even heard that he hissed in the first place. but you noticed it; you always do. you would notice everything about the man before you and he would do the same.

after cleaning his shoulder wound, you proceeded to prepare to stitch it up. there was no one else in the infirmary at the moment; it was now only you and hoshina there. he silently watched you as you quickly arranged the surgical suture. and even when you started the stitching, the deafening silence was still comfortable. 

soshiro gently raised his right arm since it was uninjured and used his hand to smoothly tuck your other strands of hair behind your ear. you looked at him, raising an eyebrow at his gesture. he smiles at you in return. “your hair might get in the way. we don’t want my stitches to have your hair stuck in them now, don't we?”

you quickly finish up the stitch and put gauze on top as well. “i’m sorry.” soshiro’s apology is as genuine as it always is whenever he gets treated in this same room. “i’m starting to feel quite better now, though. couldn’t do it without my favorite nurse.” he continues, as he grabs ahold of your unoccupied hand.

he hears you chuckle at his words as you interlock your fingers together. “avoid arduous training or activities for a good one week and you’ll be good as new.” you said, sighing as now you’re finally done with treating your boyfriend. “eh? no fair. i have to go help the rookies train the day after tomorrow.”

“i’m sure captain ashiro would let you off the hook in the meantime, soshiro.”

“oh, we’re on a first name basis now?” he asks, and this time it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. you bring your other hand up to his cheek, caressing it as your thumb grazes his cheek bone. he leans into your palm as if it were a reflex. “we’ve always been on a first name basis, dummy.” you say.

“maybe all of my pain could go away if you just gave me a little kiss, you know, as your vice captain.”

“now that’s just abuse of authority. do you ask other nurses for a kiss too?” you pouted.

“that’s why your my favorite nurse.” he replies, clearly emphasizing the word “favorite” as he steals a kiss from you.

yeah, vice captain soshiro hoshina definitely does not play favorites.

[the-dragon-girl-27]

Surprised nobody has made this joke yet

Plesiosaur grindset

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny stared at his nemesis, slowing his walk to a complete stop.

“Don’t,” he pleaded.

The devil incarnate glared back at him, somehow conveying its disdain, disinterest, and malicious intent in one cold stare.

“I swear to Ancients-!”

Mr. Muffins, Jazz’s college cat, meowed loudly and slapped the glass off of the counter.

“No!” Danny dove at the glass, skidding across the tile just in time to catch Jazz’ favorite cup as tipped over and plummeted towards the cold hard floor. “Oh my- you little devil! Mr. Muffins, you little shit!”

Mr. Muffins flicked a tail and sat down calmly as Danny sprung back up to place the cup into the sink.

“You stinky bastard, Jazz would have killed me!”

Danny picked the cat up and held him by the armpits, dangling the cat. Mr. Muffins, no longer simply disdainful, meowed loudly and tried to wiggle away.

“Listen, here, Mr. Muffins- ah! No, you’re not allowed to run away! You have to take responsibility for your actions,” Danny slipped into Ghost Speak as he lectured Mr. Muffins, a rather harried look smushed across his face. He didn’t hear the door open, but he did hear Jazz call out to him.

“Danny, stop bullying Mr. Muffins!”

“Maybe if you parented Mr. Muffins right, he wouldn’t be trying to knock your favorite cup all over the place! If it weren’t for me,” Danny swayed Mr. Muffins, who had become docile as he caught sight of Jazz, like a fluffy and long pendulum. “Your cup would be pieces all over the floor right now!”

Jazz tossed her keys onto the table. “Right… and that definitely didn’t have anything to do with you putting your cup too close to the edge like I told you not to?”

Danny stared at her, mouth gaping in offense. Alright, so it did have to do with that, but it was offensive how fast she came to that conclusion. Danny said as much to Jazz, who smirked and plucked her cat from his grip.

“Have you considered that you’re easily predictable, dork?” Jazz cuddled Mr. Muffins, who was purring up a storm, and walked towards her room.

“Rude! Are you calling me basic?”

“If the shoes fit, Danny-O!” Jazz hollered back. Mr. Muffins mewed as if to punctuate her sentence.

“I hate that cat,” Danny grumbled, grinning fondly. “Now that you’re back, I’m gonna go visit Tim and Tucker! They’re over at Tucker’s for a project!”

“Kay!” Jazz yelled back. “Don’t run into to much trouble and be back before three A.M.!”

“Yes, mother!” Danny put on his shoes and started walking.

——

Danny, along with a handful of dumbstruck civilians, stared down at the unconscious clown. Then, they stared at Danny’s hand in shock and awe. Danny too, stared at his own hand, but in abject betrayal.

“Shit. Jazz is gonna kill me.” He mumbled, pulling out his phone.

“Hey, Tucker. Yeah, sorry, I’m gonna be late.” Danny paused, glancing back down at the clown, up at the still shocked goons, and sighed. “I- uh, knocked out the Joker by accident. Maybe broke his nose.”

Danny heard Tim’s muffled “WHAT?!” and silently concurred because what? He thought villains in Gotham were made of sturdier stuff?!

“Can you tell Jazz? I gotta,” Danny held up the phone, so it could pick up the loud sirens approaching his position. “Deal with the cops.”

Danny pouted as Tucker laughed at him.

[jennamoran]

A lot of people are rushing to storytelling in the aftermath of the assassination attempt. They make up conspiracy theories. They decide that the election is lost, or that people need to boldly struggle on lest it be lost.

But the lesson of the whole thing is that life isn't a story.

The dude owns a third of the Supreme Court. He leads one of two major political parties in this country. He thinks constantly about his own safety. He's surrounded by guys whose whole job is to protect him. But none of it could stop some guy with a gun from shooting at him, and coming kind of close?

He's not a god, he's just meat and hair and an internal perspective.

Apparently someone at the rally did die. Did get shot and die. Not even the shooter, just someone who was there. And the whole country is fretting about the old dude who got some blood on his face. Somebody died, but the story's apparently just ... not about them.

Conversely, there was this dangerous, dangerous politician; an insurrectionist, a monster, in an incredibly divisive and contentious time---and someone took a shot at them, just months before the election, and basically, nothing happened.

No dramatic movement towards the next act of the movie at all.

... but that's how it works, though. Life isn't a story.

Stories are how we organize what happened, after.

We're not in the after. Not really. Nothing's doomed, and nothing's safe either. Nobody's suffering is worth it. Go make someone's life better.

If you're all full of emotions because of a story in your head, I dunno, bake something for a friend. Feed your poor cat. Donate to a vetted Palestinian fundraiser. Visit your family. Lift someone up. Lift someone up.

Lift someone, somewhere up.

At least one person died at the rally. Ninety in Palestine. An old guy got a fuckbucket of trauma and some blood on his face.

Go make someone's life better.

[umblrspectrum]

i love this brand of image so much