#Hope you like it tho

[gongliyart]

haikyuu x animal crossing

[jenivere2]

I would kill for another Zevran fanart from you................ it is SO GOOD.

thank you kind stranger <3

[nguyenfinity]

[slams this on the table] HAPPY MOTHERS’ DAY

Extra:

[joethehoeee]

Week one of keenswimmers2023

Prompt: Dystopia/Utopia.

I personally decided to do Dystopia and I know I am late but I can explain-

No actually I can't...dosen't matter, It's there.

I uhm decided to do a world were Gunmar broke free in season one and actually killed Jim. Strickler obviously was shocked but we all know that season one him is a ...well...kind of a dick, wich means he "got over it"...until he realized how fucked up this actually is.

He did keep his promise tho, he protects Barbara. He eventually tells her that he is a changeling but he bends the truth how he needs it to be. Strickler leaves Gunmar after finding out that he will kill every human and he decided (after veeeeery looooong thoughts) that Barbara is more worth than his selfish plans.

Barb would eventually find out the truth after Strickler left Gunmar for her and he tries to survive or at least he is trying to keep her alive. Barb can't forgive him. She won’t forgive him.

How does it end...? They both probably die...

...

Anyways have fun with this :D

Close up from them just bc:

And yes...Barb has a stick...she couldn’t find her broom.

Ohhh and did Strickler broke off one of his horns? Yes he did. Wanna know how? Gunmar did it after Strickler refused to tell him were he hides Barbara.

Barb's scars are easier to see but Walt tends to jump infront of her. He fights for her as long as his body works.

He gives her food and water as much as she needs and takes what's left or eats trash. He refuses to sleep, to watch over her. He holds himself awake as long as nessecary until his body can't take it.

:D

[thestarmonitor]

Happy early existence anniversary to my homie @cosmicstarling125

I tried redrawing one of your artworks

[written-by-jayy]

Snippet #1: New Rules

Masterlist

CW: Recovery whump, confused whumpee, blood, broken glass, mentions of sadistic whumper, past trauma, hemophobia (fear of blood)

Word count: 1,903

A/N: Wasn't really sure how to finish this story off but other than that, I think I'm happy with it. Hope you like it as well!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whumpee was finally getting better, finally beginning to understand that they were safe now, that Whumper's rules didn't apply here at their new home. After nearly two weeks of constant reassurance from Caretaker and Medic, along with many breakdowns and lots of confusion on Whumpee's part. Things were finally looking up.

At least that's what Caretaker and Medic had both woken up thinking. That's what they had just been happily talking about over breakfast, while they waited for Whumpee to come out of their room. It wasn't unusual for them to sleep in a bit, and even when they woke up, it usually took Whumpee some time to work up the courage to leave their room in search of what Caretaker had prepared that smelled so good. Whumpee had learned that it was always something new, it always tasted amazing, and-- as of now at least-- there was always some set aside for them.

As Medic listed a few positive behavioral differences that she had observed over the past several days, she was cut off by a gasp from Caretaker, who always sat opposite Medic, facing the hall in which their shared room was. Their room, along with the guest room they had given to Whumpee. When Medic looked up from her food and at her fiancé in search of what had made them gasp, she noticed their eyes were looking past her. Down the hallway.

Alarmed, Medic turned around quickly. So quick, it seemed to startle Whumpee, who was standing in the middle of hall. At first, she couldn't tell what had made Caretaker so shocked. She eyed whumpee, noting their confused expression-- likely at the reaction they garnered--, their messy hair, their baggy PJs, their slightly slouched posture likely due to being tired, nervous, or still hurting a bit from Whumper. Maybe all three, she realized. Her eyes went to Whumpee's outstretched arms with their hands cupped, holding something.

Now she understood Caretaker's reaction. Still unable to tell what exactly Whumpee was holding, seeing the red liquid dripping from their hands was enough to cause Medic to get to her feet as quickly as possible, forgetting how anxious and jumpy Whumpee still was. The dripping liquid was enough to make the ever so squeamish Caretaker need to cover their eyes and take deep breaths.

Medic barely took two rushed steps in Whumpee's direction before realizing her mistake as Whumpee just as quickly took a few steps back, keeping as much distance between themself and Medic as possible. Medic paused mid step and made eye contact with them, looking into their not only confused but now scared, wide eyes.

"Hey, Whumpee," she spoke as soft and calmly as she could muster, "didn't mean to frighten you. I'm sorry..." she could she Whumpee's muscles relax slightly at this, "so uhh, whatcha got there, bud?" She looked back at his hands. Whatever it was, it was either shimmery or very shiny, based on what was visible and wasn't covered in red.

Whumpee followed her gaze, looking down at their hands. After a short moment, smiled proudly and extended their arms out as far they could reach, almost like they were offering whatever they had to Medic and they looked back up at her.

"Look!" Their voice was still as soft and quiet as ever but there was something new to it. Emotion, but not fear or sadness. They sounded happy, "I cleaned it up!"

Medic had to force herself to keep a normal, casual pace as she walked over to Whumpee to finally see what they had. As she did, she looked back and saw Caretaker with their head on the table, likely fighting back nausea. When she turned her head back to Whumpee, she was hit with an awful metallic smell. Any doubt about the red liquid being blood dissipated immediately and she looked at Whumpee's outstretched hands. They were holding broken and bloody glass.

"Oh god."

"Are you happy?"

The innocence not only in the question itself, but the voice as well had Medic nearly smiling, despite the current circumstances. They had a way of doing that to her and despite Whumpee only being a few years younger than Medic, she saw him almost as a little sibling who needed to be guided through this horrible world.

How could she say no? But at the same time she couldn't encourage this... "Listen Whumpee, I need you to throw the glass away, and go to the restroom. I'll meet you in there with my medical kit. Then while I fix you up, we need to talk about this."

Whumpee's smile dropped and they lowered their hands, "you're... mad?" two words was all it took to break Medic's heart. This whole 'caregiving' thing really was a rollercoaster in many ways.

"No, no. Bud, of course I'm not mad. Just... I just don't like seeing you hurt. Can you please do what I asked?"

Whumpee lowered their head and began shuffling toward the trash can, "yes ma'am. Sorry."

"It's alright. No need to apologize," she disappeared in search of her med kit.

When Whumpee made it to the trash, they winced as they dropped the glass into it and began dusting their hands off to get the excess out of their fresh wounds. It took a minute for them to painstakingly pick all the small shards out. By the time they were done, there wasn't an inch of skin showing through the blood, from the tips of their fingers, to their wrists. They knew this would either please or anger Medic. They weren't sure which though. Maybe she liked to see them bleed, like Whumper. Or maybe she was more concerned about Whumpee making a mess. They hoped the former.

After looking at their hands for a moment, they turned to go find Medic in the restroom like they were instructed. As they did, they noticed Caretaker lying face down on the table.

Strange. Maybe they fell asleep, they wondered, but as they passed, Caretaker's head shot up making Whumpee jump. Just as they were about to say something, Caretaker looked at Whumpee's hands and gagged, lying their head back down. After a moment of labored breathing, they spoke sternly, "Go... go find Med- Medic..."

"Yes, Caretaker..."

So don't go to the restroom. Just find Medic. But she said... no. That doesn't matter. Just do as Caretaker says.

They peered around every room they passed on their way down the hall, but Medic wasn't in any. They began to get nervous. If they couldn't do as Caretaker said, should they try what Medic said? Or should they be honest and just accept their punishment?

They chose the former. Daring to hope that they'd be granted mercy if they found Medic in the restroom. As they inched out of the hall, they saw Caretaker was gone from the table. Good, maybe they wouldn't get caught disobeying them.

They hurriedly made their way across the dining room and into entry way of the large apartment. They were beyond relieved when they poked their head into the restroom and saw Medic there, waiting patiently while she laid out gauze, anti-septic, and tweezers, still digging around for the medical tape.

"M-medic?" there was a knot in their throat making their voice sound squeaky.

She turned around and gave a gentle smile, "Hey, you okay?" her face almost immediately fell as she noticed their bloodied hands, which they had cupped to their chest protectively as they shook like a leaf. They whimpered quietly.

"Sorry, Medic. I-I'm feeling uhm..." they subconsciously shook one of their hands-- a nervous habit of theirs-- and flung drops of blood onto the nearest wall. Medic chose not to say anything though, she could clean it up later.

"What are you feeling, hun?" she beckoned for them come sit on the toilet, which they did very slowly and hesitantly. She couldn't help but feel as though everything she had thought this morning about them getting better was a lie, now. And that thought broke her heart more than it already was by seeing Whumpee's state.

They cleared their throat as they sat, "I think- I think I feel confused and uh, scared? I don't really know though. I'm not very good at knowing..." they fidgeted uncomfortably.

"That's alright, Whumpee. Thanks for trying, though. Can I see your hands?"

They showed her their shaky and bloody hands, stretching their arms out to full length again, "You're still not mad... right?"

She took their hands and leaned them gently over the counter and to the sink, turning the faucet on, keeping a low flow of luke-warm water as she rinsed their hands off. As she did, she noticed them wincing and she could slowly start to see why, as several deep cuts were uncovered.

"Why'd you do that, Whumpee?" she prompted, as gently as usual. She began carefully massaging their hands, doing her best to avoid the cuts. Trying to get as much blood off as possible, while inspecting to see if there were any shard or slivers of glass left over.

There was a pause as Whumpee thought, "sorry... I just wanted to clean up the mess I made. I didn't mean to upset you... and I made more of a mess too. I dripped everywhere, I think."

"That's okay. I'm not mad, I promise. Just worried. I don't like when you're hurt," she explained, turning off the water and reaching for a dark towel.

Whumpee flinched again as she dried their hands. Though they were still tense from the obvious pain, Medic noted their more relaxed posture.

"Is Caretaker mad?" they questioned hesitantly.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?" she held the towel under Whumpee's hands and reached for the anti-septic, "this is gonna sting a bit, okay? It'll help you not get sick though."

Whumpee nodded, closing their eyes tight and clenching their jaw. They gasped and groaned as the liquid foamed and dripped. After a minute, Medic dabbed their hands dry once more.

“You okay?” She looked into whumpees watery eyes.

They nodded, “I know caretaker is mad because they won’t look at me.”

“They’re not mad, just squeamish,” not finding any more shards, she chose to skip the tweezers and began wrapping whumpees hands.

“Oh… are they okay?”

“Yeah, they just need a break. They’ll be okay in a little bit.”

“Okay… that’s good.”

Medic smiled softly as she finished, “all done. Be gentle with yourself while you heal, alright?”

“Yes, Medic,” they held their hands up to the light, examining them, “thank you.”

“Anytime. Let’s get you some breakfast now. I’ll clean up here and you can either look for Caretaker, or wait at the table for one of us. Your choice.”

“I’ll wait. I need to be patient.”

“Sounds good! I'll be there as soon as I'm done in here.”

Whumpee smiled and excitedly hopped up, heading for the table.

As Medic wet the dark towel and began scrubbing, she couldn't help but smile to herself. Maybe Whumpee was getting better. Not in the ways she had thought, but she reminded herself that any progress was good.

They could walk on their own with only a slight limp. They could smile. They could make their own choices; even if they were minute. If they were even a little happy, then she could take a breath and be happy herself.

[2helper]

I uhh, tried to draw that skeleton.

[briefcreatorcreator]

*LATER THAT SAME EVENING:*

BREAKING NEWS: Youngster found in baffling situation!

A young, very well-know troublemaker, has been found early this evening, tied up upside down from a lamp post and with sings of having being swinged from on side from the other, covered in what can only described as "Purple XXL Play-Doh"

The youngster, who prefers to remain anonymous, claims that this is the work of two evil witches roaming Gravesfield; "I didn't see their face BUT i swear they had pointy ears and glowing eyes, I SWEAR!!", he claims.

Follow our newsletter for more updates in the boy's fantasies and the truth behind this strange case!

Found siblings my beloved✨

[isjasz]

[mob killing noises] BAM!!!!1111!!

[hellspawnmotel]

intimacy between an evil spiteful building-sized supercomputer and the lone scientist left behind after everyone else ditched and forgot about her (in which computer wants to kill scientist really bad but her programming wont let her so she just attempts to make her as miserable as possible instead, which also doesn't work because scientist is a freak)

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[radio-crow]

Reap what you sow.

(Here's a rendered piece of Peacock -my cod oc- going feral and getting revenge on her enemies I feel like I did some stuff wrong tho but I hope y'all like it :D)

(also her hands are like that cuz they're prosthetics except idk how to draw them so I just decided to wing it-)

[seafoamsol]

Gaze upon me, and witness my glory!

[gotchibam]

Skitty ko-fi doodle for @beskarmermaid!

I’m accepting pokemon ko-fi doodle requests here! ✨

[nautilus1954]

Hey Lads!

Sorry I haven't been posting much, and sorry about not posting MFTD at the scheduled time I was meant to. I've been very busy lately, and the next OC story probably holds the world record of being the longest OC story on Tumblr, so I've been slowly dying as of late. All I ask is for you guys to bear with me a little longer on this. The new and final addition to MFTD story 7 will come out this Friday at 8:00.

To compensate for the late story, here's some old sketches I made of Vincent in his full demon form.

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.