#SEE THE POTENTIAL

[jasmineandpepper]

Appreciation post for all the beginner artists who work hard despite the AI ​​looming over us. You are fabulous. You are precious. Keep up the hard work, you are needed.

[jamiedoodlesss]

been thinking about how its canon that susie will rest her chin on peoples heads......

(click for better quality!)

[mars-ipan]

the recent eye color post on yesornopolls is intriguing me a lot bc. well. statistically more people should be answering yes to the question here than they are. but obvs the point of yesornopolls is yes or no questions so we can’t exactly do a follow up there. so i’m going into more depth here because i can do what i want

obvs this poll isn’t gonna get as much traction as the poll blog’s will, but it’ll still be interesting to look at the results of it and compare them methinks

(bee tee dubs if your eyes change color based on lighting answer with the color they are most often. pick whatever color you’d put on a legal ID. also the heterochromia button is there with complete heterochromia in mind but if you have central/sectoral heterochromia and feel none of the other options fit you then. go for it i suppose)

i know i forgot gray eyes can you all please relax about it. this is a poll on tumblr dot com it is not the end of the world if i forgot your eye color

[valdelion]

Criminal that we didn't have a Supernatural vintage car show episode, come on now

Dean can infiltrate no problem bc he genuinely knows everything about cars and gets super into discussing fixes, gets wildly side-tracked, while Sam goes off to interrogate a bunch of car-enthusiast hot milfs

Dean is glued at the hip to Cas and Cas always stands awkwardly at the Impala, doesn't know anything about cars, so everyone just assumes Cas is the boyfriend who showed up for support? And the hot young ladies in shorts and boots befriend him bc he's apparently one of the hot girlfriends? And so he gets insight into their lives and solves the case, leading them final-girl style through the monster showdown in a garage full of heavy machinery and angry ghosts

Dean watches him emerge from the garage, shotgun in hand, shirt torn and covered in grease, and he bluescreens so hard he just runs past the flock of bombshells in shorts and tank tops (also covered in grease) to clutch Cas to check him for injuries

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

delicately holds up 2 characters (specimen) with tweezers whilst peering sagely through a jeweller's lens: "why yes. oh yes...they'll make a marvelous divorced couple"

[kwadlayns]

talk to me in french, talk to me in spanish 🍒

[blorbosinmyheadcentral]

Supervised Machine Learning

[zorangezest]

switcheroo part 2 electric boogaloo (soundwave edition)

for those of you who were wondering, yes soundwave is still the most loyal hes just a flamboyant conniving megalomaniac, and yes starscream is still traitorous hes just calculating and methodical and very very patient

part 3

[sunderwight]

There are a lot of plausible ways that things could go if Shen Yuan met Shen Jiu when they're both grown adults, but for my money the funniest is if they just immediately start trying to maim each other.

Shen Yuan is wondering if there's some sort of mandate of the "if you meet your double you have to kill him" style in effect, but no. It's just that he's still way more pissed off about the child abuse against Binghe than he realizes, while Shen Jiu's reaction to seeing anyone who reminds him of himself is to try and destroy them. There's not a lot of thinking or finesse involved, so they basically go from zero to "rolling in the dirt trying to claw each other's eyes out" with no warning.

[anna-scribbles]

take my hand. listen. adrinette exes. and marichat. (part 1)

(part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5)

[strandnreyes]

haven’t watched a show that made me laugh like this in so long plz go watch adults on fx/hulu

[scurviesdisneyblog]

Early visual development for Wish (2023) by Griselda Sastrawinata-Lemay and Brittney Lee.

An earlier version of the film saw Star take on a human form as a magical, glowing character inspired by Peter Pan. Ultimately, the creative team reconceptualized Star as an ethereal, playful entity resembling Mickey Mouse. "Now Star and Asha have an emotional journey. They are soulmates." -Allison Moore.

[neoheros]

sakusa knows he’s a bad date.

he’s quiet, timid, doesn’t speak much, and asks all the wrong questions at the wrong time.

he’s not very good at eye contact and a lot of the things he wants to say he feels he can’t say at all either.

(partially due to the feeling that everything he says when he talks to you ends up embarrassing him, and partially due to the fact that talking to you for long periods of time make him tongue tied).

(not that he’d ever admit that).

despite all that though, he does know the basics when it comes to going on dates:

he buys you flowers (and forgets it by his doorway), he opens the car door for you (and apologizes when it almost hits you as he opens it), and he makes dinner reservations at the restaurant you mentioned to him in passing three days ago (he did a good job with this one).

so yes, him being a bad date is not unbeknownst to him. quite the opposite in fact, it’s not only something he knows about himself, but it’s also something that he thinks about all the time.

or at least, all the time ever since he’s met you.

that’s how the two of you end up here — the evening of your first (and probably last) date, sitting on a porch step of an empty building, a bloodied handkerchief filled with crushed up snow pressed against sakusa’s left cheek, and a few missing buttons from your favorite winter coat.

sakusa always knew he was a bad date, but he never thought he would be this bad.

the plan had been simple: get you flowers, open the door for you, drive you to the restaurant you liked. sakusa had this game-plan of his memorized ever since you said yes to him four — now five — days ago.

he wrote it on a piece of paper, step by step, and kept it in his wallet sleeve in case he forgets, he repeated it to himself three times in the mirror this afternoon before he left the house to pick you up, and he said it to himself one last time in the car before texting you that he’d arrived.

he memorized it.

and still, he messed it up.

the streets are empty and the evening is quiet.

“sorry … for this.”

his words feel like they’ve been the first to be spoken all night.

on the snowy concrete just below your feet, there’s a few drops of blood making its presence known loudly against the whiteness of the snow, the drops scatter sporadically, and near it, there’s a button or two from your coat.

you sit next to sakusa on the cold steps, it’s a quiet night, and it’s not snowing anymore, but the soft bed of the cold flurry it left behind made for a beautiful evening.

you let your head fall slightly on his shoulder, “for what?”

you can feel him stiffen immediately under your touch, and he coughs, shy, and looks to the side.

it makes you smile a little bit — his efforts of hiding his expressions — it’s not like you can see him anyway with that big makeshift ice-pack covering his face.

“sorry for the bad date.” he clears his throat, more clearly now, a little louder too, but his tone almost sounds disappointed. “… and sorry for ruining your coat.”

you lift your head up from his shoulder, frowning, and you turn to face him, “it’s not a bad date.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. instead, he keeps his head turned slightly away from you, but his shoulders fall a bit when you move away from him.

“if anything, i should be the one apologizing.” you mutter lowly, “i’m the reason you got hurt.”

sakusa huffs slightly. a second pausing in the air as he refuses to return the look you give him, and finally, he puts down the “ice pack” from his cheek, and looks at you.

his cheek is scratched lightly, nothing too deep, just a red mark that’ll probably resolve itself in a few days, but his lower lip though — the culprit of the blood stained snow — is undeniably busted, still bleeding slightly, and making him wince at the sudden loss of pressure.

“don’t say stupid things.” he tells you, and if it makes him sound cold, he swears he’s not trying to be.

he just doesn’t know what else there is to say.

the truth is — it is a bad date.

he forgot your flowers, almost hit you with the car door, and now, the two of you are missing your dinner reservation because he got himself injured twenty minutes into the night.

it’s not fair, he thinks. half the things he wants to say to you, he can’t. half the things he wants to do, he messes up.

you make him fumble on his words, tongue tied, speechless, literally. you make him write things down on notes so he won’t forget them or practice on bathroom mirrors or worry in his car outside your doorstep.

he is the most capable man in his team, he is the sharpest, the most composed, his teammates and coach all count and look up to him.

but for some reason, one night with you, and it all washes away.

he doesn’t know what to say to you, he forgets things, and he falls face first flat on the hard concrete ground twenty minutes into your first date.

don’t say stupid things.

“you really won’t let me take you to the hospital?” you put your hand on his knee, turning even more to your side so you can face him better.

you have half a mind to put your other hand on his injured cheek but you don’t want to hurt him more than how he already does.

“it’s not as bad as it looks.” and as he says that, he winces, the gust of wind suddenly hitting his busted lip a testament to his bad luck tonight.

sakusa wants to kick himself, if there ever would be an appropriate time to act cooler than how he actually was, it would definitely not be now.

you don’t look so convinced, but sakusa wouldn’t know, he’s still only limiting himself to looking at you briefly before shifting his glance to something behind you or beside you or above you.

“hm. and it doesn’t hurt?” you cross your arms.

he shakes his head, “no. it doesn’t.” (it does.)

you raise a brow, “and you wouldn’t happen to be lying to me right now so i don’t take you to the emergency room?”

he shakes his head again, “i’m not.” (he is.)

you give him a look.

listen — sakusa already knows that he’s a bad date, but come on! he has been planning on asking you to dinner with him since the first week he’s known you, he’s been worrying about this evening since the second you agreed to it, and he’s been kicking himself in the head ever since the night began.

he’d rather bleed out on this disgustingly dirty porch step than admit that he’s a date so bad he can turn an evening meant for dinner into a night at the emergency room.

he doesn’t want you to think that he can be so bad like that. (is it too soon to ask you out for dinner again?)

you still look frustrated at his answers. but at least, he’s looking at you now.

you let out a big sigh, shoulders falling, and suddenly, you clap your hands together loudly as you straighten up.

“then i have an idea.” you say, and sakusa furrows his brows at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

you give him a prompting grin. “heads or tails.”

and it catches him so off guard, he says aloud, “what?”

you dig for a coin in your coat, “i’ll flip a coin and if it lands on heads, we go to the emergency room, no arguments, no fusses, no nothing.”

he frowns at that.

“but.” you tell him, and your grin gets wider as you show him the dime laid out on your palm, “if it’s tails, we go to my apartment, and i’ll try to fix you up there.”

his frown falls almost immediately into something else.

one night out with you and he’s already bleeding heavily and injured, and now you wanna take him back to your apartment?

were you trying to kill him?

“heads or tails, omi.”

he blinks at your words. and once again, he finds himself saying aloud, “what?”

you shoot him a funny look, your eyebrows slightly raising as your lips curve upward into a crooked smile.

you say, teasing, “if you don’t know; heads is the part of the coin with the head of the person showing on it and tails is the–”

sakusa grumbles loudly, cutting you off mid-sentence, making sure you see him roll his eyes at you, and he nudges you slightly with his foot.

he mutters, albeit under his breath, and he tries to hide it, but you can always tell when he’s smiling, “i know what a goddamned head is.”

you shrug, your grin wider now when you see his mood lighten up a bit.

“do you know what a goddamned tail is?”

sakusa huffs out an amused sigh. the smile on his face a lot more prominent now, and you only wonder slightly if it hurts him when he does it.

his shoulders fall as he’s defeated, “just take me to the emergency room.”

you let out a short laugh and the night doesn’t seem so quiet anymore.

you fall back against his shoulder, “ah, omi, are you just saving the opportunity to be invited into my apartment for our next date?”

there’s a choking sound to be heard in the air.

his face almost feels like it’ll erupt into flames by how casually you just said that, a hot pink hue creeping up from his neck to nose all the way to the tips of his ears. he blames it on the cold, and immediately, he presses the “icepack” back against his cheek.

sakusa stands up suddenly from the porch step, “let’s go now.”

and just like he said, he strides away, faster than what would usually be safe on snow-covered pavement.

“omi, not so fast!” you yell after him, rising from your own seat and following his pace, “you might fall again and hurt the other side of your face and atsumu will think i beat you up on our first date.”

he walks faster.

“i can go to the hospital myself, please don’t follow me.”

“that’s ridiculous! let me take care of you!”

he trips on his feet slightly as you say that and his heart feels like it would’ve fell from his mouth had he not caught himself before falling again.

you really were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

maybe this date doesn’t feel so bad after all.

and, is it too soon if he asks you to come have dinner with him again?

[aveloka-draws]

Feeling guilty, even if you don't regret what you did. Finding comfort in the arms of the one you betrayed.

[satoblue]

tw: memory loss, deception, love at first sight, obsession.

thinking about when satoru was a child and the first time he met you after managing to slip past his clan’s suffocating watch.

satoru had always thought the world he came from was too much. at least, for someone like him — someone who had the misfortune of being born with both the six eyes and limitless cursed techniques. seen as nothing but a weapon.

but you… he remembers the exact day he met you. the exact street he saw you sat at as you hummed to yourself, short legs kicking under the bench as you licked at a blue popsicle that turned your tongue the same color. and then, when you noticed him staring your way — or specifically, at the treat in your hand — you smiled at him. actually smiled — before offering him one from the cooler on that fateful summer day as well as your name.

he was never allowed sweets like this — pure sugar in his perfectly curated diet. he recalls the taste of it on his tongue even now — the taste of something new and wonderful. it had been his favorite ever since. and he recalls the way his tongue had also turned the same shade of blue and he had to hide it the whole time when he was eventually found and brought back to reality, wondering when it’d go away.

but he also wondered about you. how you didn’t give it to him bc of his name or status — but just because. bc you saw that he was any other kid just like you. and he never forgot it. bc you were the first.

sometimes, when satoru could, he’d try and go back to the same spot just to see you — but there was never any trace of you. so life moved on. he didn’t have the time to linger on it much. there was this huge burden thrust upon his shoulders since his birth — his duties. and then later on, there was the school, missions, and then eventually the students after he chose to become a teacher.

but even as the world demanded everything from him, he kept that memory tucked away in his head like a secret he visited every so often — a single moment of peace and warmth in his abnormal world. of what life could’ve been like if he weren’t born gojo satoru.

and then, years later, your name appears on a mission report — low priority, civilian casualty, and memory loss under suspicious conditions. he shouldn’t have even been reading the file — but he recognizes the first name of the girl he’s been thinking about for so long. he really just checked for the hell of it. you’re listed as a non sorcerer. no cursed energy and no connection to the world he is a part of. but when he sees the attached photo — his entire world stops. he’s never forgotten that face.

really, he almost convinces himself to leave it alone. almost. yet, the next moment — he finds himself at your bedside in the hospital, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other nervously clutching a perfect bouquet of flowers (he wasn’t really sure why he brought them). both the sound of his foot tapping incessantly against the floor and his heart thudding in his chest are too loud in his ears.

the cursed energy from whatever hit you still lingers faintly around you — whatever did this was smart. but satoru is smarter. stronger. he’ll find out who or what took you from him. bc even if you don’t remember him — he remembers everything.

and when your eyes flutter open — those same eyes from years ago (a little older and still holding that same warmth he’s craved all his life and never found in anything else) — you look at him like he’s a stranger. and it guts him.

you ask, voice soft and unsure, “who are you?” and really, he wants to say he’s a sorcerer — wants to explain everything. he should keep you safe from his world, let you know of the dangers that lurk around the corner. but instead, the words tumble out like muscle memory: “i’m gojo satoru. i’m your husband. and you… you’re my wife.”

it is a lie — and yet, the truest thing he’s ever said. bc even if you don’t remember him… he’s been in love with you for half of his life. and fate — twisted and cruel and maybe merciful — has brought you back to him again.

[morganbritton132]

17 year old, CEO Tim Drake canceling a press conference and then putting out a statement like, “Sorry for canceling last min, Alfred said that he was going to run my laptop through the dishwasher if I didn’t clean my room. I think he’d do it :/. Also, wasn’t really in the mood. Cya -Tim.”