#TUMBLR EXCLUSIVE for now

[breaddv]

junna keeps the scar after the movie btw

[sandshadow9]

Love Language

“Are you okay? You’ve been staring at that scroll for hours.”

Peril watched as Clay heaved an enormously dramatic sigh and flopped his head on the desk. It hit with a rattling thunk.

“I knoooow,” he moaned, his usually adorable face scrunched in misery. “I’ve been trying to write this letter to Umber for hours but it’s really super hard.”

Carefully, always carefully, Peril approached the desk. The light from her firescales joined with the small halos of orange that flickered from the candles that lined the desk. Beneath Clay’s head was a piece of parchment half filled with his signature left-leaning scrawl. She glowered at it. “Want me to burn it for you? Would that make you feel better?”

The smile that fell across his face was like a summer wind under her wings. “That’s very…sweet, Peril, but I don’t think that’s going to solve my problem.” He lifted his head, his sweet brown eyes flitting across the page sadly. “I just… never really got good at spelling and stuff. I want to get better, but every time I try to write to someone or help a student with their work, I end up getting all confused and mix my letters up.”

Peril leaned over his shoulder, eyeing the evil paper that dared to hurt Clay in any way. The written text had several sections that had been marked out and re-written. At the bottom of the page was a word – at least she guessed it was the same word – rewritten in multiple ways and scratched out every time.

“What’s…gongeous?”

Clay put a talon over his face. “I’m trying to spell gorgeous. I’ve been sitting here forever trying to spell it.”

“Oh!” Peril said brightly, titling her head to the side. “G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S. Gorgeous!”

Clay looked at her wonderingly, like she had just shown him a portal to an endless field of cows. “Peril…yes! Thank you! That’s exactly it!” Quickly he began scribbling down the letters. He smiled down at the parchment, a weight lifted from his wings, and then he looked back at her in a way that stole the breath right out of her chest. “You’re so smart. I wish you could help me write all my letters.”

                                                 ~~~

In Turtle’s opinion, a SeaWing was the perfect dragon for a midnight snack stealth mission to the kitchen. First of all, he could see in the dark so no worrying about slamming into walls or stumbling down the wrong tunnel. Secondly… uh… he didn’t actually have a second point down yet.

The list was still a work in progress, after all.

As he approached the entrance to the library, he noticed that the solid darkness eased into something more shadowy and flickering. Light filtered out of the library entrance and fell over the stone cave in warm puddles of soft orange. Alarmed, Turtle realized someone must have left a candle burning in the library.

Being the self-preserving and heroic dragon he was, Turtle immediately hurried into the library to save the school.

He did not find a candle. What he found instead was a hundred times more dangerous.

Peril was sitting in the library, holding some thin granite slates in her burning talons. Turtle recognized them as the slates Starflight had made so that he could read by touch. Luckily they also doubled as fire-proof reading material.

Peril was studying the text so intensely that Turtle had to clear his throat several times before she looked up.

“Go away. I’m busy,” she said.

“Okay but…what are you doing?” Turtle asked.

“I’m reading the dictionary,” she stated mater-of-factly, “and memorizing the spelling for each word.”

Turtle considered this. He considered it for several minutes, turning it around in his head so many times it made him dizzy. Finally he asked the only question you can ask in this sort of situation. “But…why?”

Peril looked up from her reading, her eyes dreamy and unfocused. “In case… someone needs to know how to spell a word. Then I can always be ready.”

Turtle decided not to point out that there were easier ways to check one’s spelling that didn’t include memorizing the dictionary. But, it was late and he was hungry.  

“Well… have fun with that. I’m off to find some leftover croissants.”

“Bring me back some, would you?” Peril asked, and Turtle stifled a groan. He and his stomach had really been hoping to finish off whatever was left.

But then he turned back and saw Peril, his best friend in the whole world, sitting on her own in a dark room.

He sighed to himself and, being the heroic dragon he was, promised to be right back.

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

[krowtesque]

1/2

[sol-rust]

trimax sketchdump

[traybakedtoffee]

twitter just got banned in Brazil, this is how I cope 😔

[s7ven-art]

Lover's embrace

[1000sunnygo]

Here are all four One Piece Victory Carnival special booklet comics by Kouji Souhei. Once again, source provided by @walrsu.

@fallensnowfan thought you might appreciate a tag!

[frommybedroom]

inspired by this post

Even after he turns in his essay, he can’t stop. It’s not like he’s never written anything before, but those were the silly daydreams of a little boy with his head in the clouds, who dreamed of movie stars and damsels in distress. What he’s doing now is important. What he’s doing now is necessary.

On the third day in a row that he’s late to dinner—so late that Soda has to reheat his plate—Darry says, “What you been writing about, Pony?”

“Yeah,” Soda says, bringing the plate over and setting it down. “You’re always still up when I try to go to bed. I’ve had to replace the batteries in your flashlight twice now. Are you writing another story?”

Pony shrugs. Suddenly, all the words that pour out of him so easily onto the page get lodged in the back of his throat.

How to describe it to them? The urge—to not forget, to hold onto what was. To wring out the words and distill them into a watered-down version of his friends. Those measly words the only things left of Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston.

“Hey, Ponyboy, what’s wrong?”

Pony blinks, and Soda’s blurry face peers at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Darry scoot his chair closer to the both of them. Both wear matching expressions of concern.

“I just—” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “I just want to remember them.”

His brothers don’t say anything. So he keeps going.

“I—I can’t let them just disappear. They were here. They were real. And now they’re not. And I can’t let what their tombstones say be the only thing people remember about them. They were more than just a date.”

Soda leans over and ruffles his hair. It’s starting to grow out again finally, the natural dark roots beginning to peek through. “Don’t worry about that, Pony. You’ll never forget them. None of us will.”

“Yeah,” Darry agrees. “Dallas and Johnny were family, and family don’t—”

“I can’t remember what Mom’s perfume smelled like,” Pony bursts out. “I don’t remember what her high heels sounded like on the floor or the slight burning smell when she would curl her hair. And I try real hard to remember what it was like waking up and hearing Dad make coffee, but it’s gone. They’re fading. Like they were never actually here at all.” He clenches his fists, and there’s still a faint ache in his wrist. “I’m not gonna let that happen to them.”

He doesn’t tell them that sometimes at night, after Soda’s fully asleep and snoring like some dang bear, he sneaks out of bed and into the closet where they’ve kept Johnny’s clothes folded in a neat pile. Sometimes he holds them, brushing his fingers over the ripped jeans; sometimes he can’t bear to sully them. Which doesn’t even make sense because the shirt’s still got some of Johnny’s blood on it so it’s plenty dirty already, but he still feels like he’ll ruin it if he touches them too much or for too long.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by arms wrapping around him. A moment later, another pair of arms joins the first. And then he’s clutching onto Soda’s elbow and Darry’s forearm, and once again they’re all holding each other.

He wonders what this scene would look like to an observer: three boys in a rundown kitchen with grime caked under their fingernails and wearing clothes that don’t fit quite right. Unwanted tears escaping from tightly squeezed eyelids. A forgotten plate of food sitting on the table. No parents or friends anywhere to be seen.

He thinks they would see grief. And heartache and loneliness and pain. But maybe also hope. Maybe also love.

[bluespiralz]

sorry for tsukiyama posting on 2024 it will happen again

all art used by @u3pxx !!

[ragsy]

lol! lmao!

[xander-wolk]

Suddenly got possessed to animate Alear instead of going to bed

[trouticide]

drawing a frame from every episode of it’s always sunny season 2 episode 1: charlie gets cr——-d

my very first frank !! :3

[hauntedhopeghost]

fire.

Guess who was in pain after the new video and made this in *checks* yeah no 20 something minutes in the middle of class.

Burn.

And Blue was back in the Nether again, holding up the child as high as she could while she sunk.

And she was back there, screaming, but now it mingled with the chorus of her friends as they burned.

Hurt.

Hurt.

Hurt.

She floundered, jumping and clinging desperately for the edge, there weren’t any piglins to save her now. Just a lava pit under sakura trees. With that flaring white pain that was so hot, it was as if she was encased in ice.

Again.

Why her friends, too? Why them?

.

.

.

Green had been distant recently, so it was a bit of a surprise that he offered to invite them out for a picnic. Of course, they all accepted, though some a bit more hesitant than others.

But she’d been eager, wanting to talk about how nice it was that they were spending time together. Especially since Green started influencing… a few weeks ago.

(Oh, that was a few weeks ago? It felt like both minutes and years at the same time.)

It’s been a month since the channel was created. And only ever since then he’s been spending most of his time out in Minecraft doing Alan-knows-what.

But she trusted him, with the picture of cherry blossoms overhead and the basket and how peaceful it all was. Sandwiches too, he’d even told her not to bring any food since he already brought them himself.

Maybe that’s what he’s been doing in Minecraft instead? Making something nice for them besides editing and recording those videos. (Even being closer to him lately, she still didn’t know much about it all. Besides the occasional dance and the slightly older videos. The ones where she knew his smile did reach his eyes because they weren’t obscured by the sunglasses.)

Thinking back, when they ate, she’d caught Red standing up despite everyone else choosing to sit. (They’d said they just preferred to eat that way, and Blue didn’t give a second thought about it.)

That was, until Green got his phone out. He’d gotten it out before, with a quick excuse of replying to comments. That only got her a shrug in response, a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine, we should just trust him on this.”

Then the ground fell open.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Freezing wasn’t going to do anything. It wasn’t going to get her out of this burning pit of hell.

It wasn’t going to do anything as her body burned.

It wasn’t going to do anything.

But she was watching herself burn to death, her limbs stopping their function as she could only hold on, to the side.

She can pull back up. She had the strength, not the will.

Burn.

Burn.

Burn.

Her eyes closed.

Then there’s another hand against hers, making her open them again.

Yellow was kneeling down, grabbing her arms and hauling her onto the grass.

Blue didn’t move.

She couldn’t move. Not a muscle. Not anything.

Ears ringing.

Burn.

“Are you okay?!”

She couldn’t open her mouth. Someone was screaming in the distance and sounds were echoing off each other. Blurs of color were dancing in front of her vision now that wasn’t that reddish-orange.

But she was there. She was still there.

Fine.

She tried to say, in the tone she’s gotten so used to.

The only response she gave was hugging her knees against her chest.

Staring.

Did she expect him to know?

No, she didn’t.

(It was supposed to be funny!)

[parfaityuri]

So juziful

[sopuu]

some stuff from twitter

first two are birthday gifts for @/enden-agolor!