#Might do;

[feelin-lo]

Be still, my bloodhound.

Master Quill x Chaoxiang!

FINALLY I'm posting something. Ive been gone for so long AAAAAA It's just a short one, sorry 😔😔

Master Quill is my delightful little fungus, and Chaoxiang belongs to the forever wonderful @boiling-potato !!

Story synopsis; Master Quill was born from flowery essence. Flowers need to pollinate, and Master does the same. It acts like hypnosis, really. And instead of pollen, Master has this red smoke that follows him.

However, it doesn't effect Chaoxiang... wierd...

"I told you. It's staying on."

Chaoxiang said, deadpan, looking down from his chair at the murderer on his knees before him. Master Quill... a fearsome animal of a man. Some people love him and would do anything for him, others? Dead on a spike.

"I will hog tie your entrails..." Master growled, tugging at the leash he was on.

It was pollen season. Because Master was born from flowers, he too, has his own kind of pollen. But his? It makes people fall for him, make them want to do what Master wants... But for some reason, Chaoxiang is immune. He was trying to read a book while Master fought against his confines.

"you're like a puppy in heat. Calm down."

Chaoxiang said, his eyes narrowing. Master licked his lips, shuffling closer. "Oh Chao Chao~" "No." "Wha-?" "Mr.... I cannot say Quill, as I find that Lo is a good friend of mine, so... Mr. Master.. (that'll have to do...) we both know that your... tactics... won't work on me."

"But I wanna get out..."

"I know."

Master used this trick on everyone. The sweet voice - a perfect mimic of Lo's voice (master's is a little harsher), he lures his victims in... then... he snatches them up, like nightmares in the night.

During his pollination, Master Quill gets... antsy, nibbly... touchy.

Red smoke gathered as it flowed from his skin, slowly getting thicker. Chaoxiang sighed and using the leash, walked Master to the window, opening it. Master took the opportunity to pounce, but misses, Chaoxiang pressed his shoe on Master's stomach.

"Listen here, there is only so much disrespect I can tolerate before you're punished. Severely punished. And I don't mean a cage. I mean, I'll give you to the twins. I'll give you to Trickster, maybe Hayden might have a turn."

Chaoxiang's voice DROPPED. He wasn't playing around anymore - he never really was, but Lo tasked him with babysitting and Chaoxiang did owe Lo a favour.

Master smirked, using his hands to hold onto Chaoxiang's leg... "oh... I could get used to being on the bottom."

Chaoxiang rolled his eyes at that comment.

"I would kill for you my darling... my love... my everything~" Master cooed. "Don't start." Chaoxiang barked, taking his seat again. Master put his head in Chaoxiang's lap.. between his legs, looking up. "Do you like babysitting me?"

"absolutely not. But... I owed Lo a favour. And I suppose... this is good research."

"You love me really."

"Be still, Bloodhound. Don't go barking for no reason."

[mayhemchicken-artblog]

in the hour or so it took me to draw this op turned reblogs off

EDIT: reblogs are STAYING OFF. op was right and correct and i have never regretted making a post as much as this one. if you want to reblog my art you can reblog something else from my blog. or commission me, lord knows i deserve financial compensation for the nightmare this post has put me through

[incessantlark]

made some icons of the pony crew !!

[bags-of-regret]

Oh god theres more

[aimasup]

Favouritism

Bill get a hold of yourself man

[cw-ianthe]

FINALLY some good fucking feature ideas from the tumblr devs. tamagotchi renaissance now

[shesmore-shoebill]

"I had choice paralysis :(" is a KILLER line.

He's such a comedic powerhouse, I'm glad more people are getting exposed to him :'D

[frankierotwinkdeath]

Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her

[mangozic]

my dead goth son and his friendly neighborhood personified concept of insanity

[weewoow-20706030]

The batfam trauma candy salad would go absolutely insane.

Dick: Hi. I'm Dick Grayson and when I was 8 I watched my parents fall to their death in front of me, then I had to move away from everything I love and spend the rest of my life in some weird American city. And I brought the sour gummy worms.

Jason: This is so stupid- my mother used to kick me out when he drug dealer would come over so I didn't see her spending our very small amount of money on drugs.

Steph *off screen*: what did you bring?

Jason: nerds.

Cass: I was raised to be a weapon, a murderer. I brought peach rings.

Steph: I'm Steph and My dad was an alcoholic who thought he could go head to head with batman and outdo the riddler. And I brought Reese's pieces.

Tim: I'm Timothy Drake Wayne and I had left the house to try and find some guy before he killed my dad, just for him to kill my dad when I was gone. I brought sour rainbow strips.

Duke: My parents are in a mental ward, high on joker toxin. No one knows if they'll ever get better. And I got m&m's.

Damian: I am a highly trained assassin and-

Steph: cut. Cut. Damian. Civilian identities. Ok. Restart.

Damian: My mother randomly dropped me on some weird man's doorstep when I was ten. I brought rock candy.

[asteroidtroglodyte]

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.

[chongoblog]

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[hinamie]

10 years later

[identitty-dickruption]

my utopia has disability in it. my utopia includes free healthcare and no-questions welfare and state-funded carers. my utopia includes building requirements that centre disabled bodies — ramps and lifts and dimmer switches and braille signs. my utopia has disability in it. because without disability, it’s not much of a utopia at all