#it’s like that one tiktok sound

[nightmareinfloral]

This is now one of my favorite comic book ads

[kensatou]

i'll let phie-san say it:

[sleepanonymous]

2023 Vore Bass Cam has been manifested 🙏🥹

[nappingpaperclip]

y’all we r not beating exorsexism and misogyny by calling every transmasc that pisses u off a ‘theyfab.’ Idc if they are annoying or have dumbass opinions, literally using someone’s agab as an insult is wrong and treating transmascs as annoying little afabs is deeply misogynistic and transphobic. What happened to just calling people fucking idiots

[kurawastaken]

i miss your oracle art :(

There she is!

[bluesylveon2]

Neige: who's that wonderful girl?

Yuu walking in with the most horrendous outfit know to man that it would make Vil cry

Yuu: what are you looking at?

Neige: could she be any cuter? 😊

[3l91]

while they’re apart iwaizumi is definitely the type who tries to date other people to get over his life ruining long term crush on his childhood friend but ends up aggravating his dates by mentioning oikawa every five seconds without thinking

“oh yeah my friend likes to order that.”

“me and that idiot oikawa used to ride bikes every now and then.”

“oikawa actually recommended us this spot-“

etc etc etc even when he’s trying not to think about him

and when a date does go well afterwards he can’t help but think about how much fun it would’ve been to do whatever it was with oikawa

all of his dates clock his crush on his childhood friend and politely turn him down on a second date offer and he’s never beaten up over it and tries to ignore the reason why he isn’t upset in the slightest

and then he texts oikawa while lying on his stomach and kicking his feet .. and because oikawa isn’t in the room with him he’s able to crack a smile when he’s teased about fumbling another date

and both of them know that they’re quietly relieved the other hasn’t run into the love of their lives yet because they want to remain the closest person to one another for just a bit longer

[ghostly-idiot]

side order was obviously psychological and physical pain for 8 (what else is new) but have you ever thought about how much fun they could've had in certain levels?

mostly with the fact the ∞-ball levels can be a nice session of exposure therapy considering 8 has been an unintentionally traumatized 8-ball murderer for however long they were in the metro (aka: the balls no longer fall!! they're saved!! its a late squidmas miracle!!!!), and also they can occasionally watch from afar as the battering lentos (big boi fishes) somehow solve things while playing with it.

there's also the fact two of the bosses sing BANGERS. absolute icons of their generation. where would we all be without the new idols that are my bois asynchronous rondo and pinging marciale???

also 8 gets to witness the true power of gay moms in the elevator of all places with a very done with life sanitized dj who might as well be their sassy aroace cousin who most definitely talks shit about everyone /j

tl;dr side order is peak comedy at times and fanon 8 should be shown to have at least a bit more fun than ive seen.

imma leave you with this tiktok i found that tempted me to make a character out of the one parallel bobot lookin guy cuz honestly why not

[ghostespresso]

staff logging on to tumblr dot com today

[jvnart]

I'm not sure if you're still doing this, but is there any chance you'd draw Gaara for me? Thank you in advance

It's his birthday! 👍✨️

Gaara!

4 of 10 birthday requests!

Ask box open, submit your fav(s)!

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[ray935sworld]

Vale: This weekend's safety brief... Don't add to the population (looks at Luca). Don't subtract from the population (looks at Migno). Don't end up in the hospital (looks at Cele), newspaper (looks at Pecco (one time was enough #dui is not a good idea)) or jail (looks at Bez).

Marc: If you do end up in jail, establish dominance quickly.

Vale: Have a good weekend

[bmpmp3]

not used to this kind of mascot

[soothifying-sounds-asmr]

| 25 keyboards by ty_cottle

| contains: various keyboard typing, talking

[tekitothemagpie]

"I have no regrets in meeting you, friend.

Should the day ever come that we are not together,

you will continue to shine like gold in my memories."

[batcavescolony]

I was talking to an idiot and I need validation.