sometimes even i can't believe that i'm on tumblr.
Misplaced Lens Cap

JVL
art blog(derogatory)
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@adreamorawish
sometimes even i can't believe that i'm on tumblr.
Sometimes I'll do a college gig--because unpaid internships do not pay the bills--and a young person will come up to me and say, "I love your tumblr."
This is a very generous thing to say.
It is kind.
I appreciate it.
But, my friend, we do not talk about what I do IN HERE when we are OUT THERE.
"He's got a soft spot for you, Kazansky."
"I know, Sir."
Some injured!Mav doodles which were all gonna be posted separately but go quite well together actually ahah
I don't know if people notice, but i sometimes draw Mav with an eyebrow slit. It's not because he thinks its fashionable or anything, its from an accident he was in where he got a nasty deep cut across his brow. Some debris tried to take his eye out but just missed its mark. The cut scarred over and the hair never grew back.
The first drawing is of that accident (the world needs more bloodied Mav). The second is when Ice first got to him in hospital. And the third is when they got home and Ice managed to actually get Mav to rest instead of bouncing off the walls like he usually would.
[Click for better quality, reblogs and tags appreciated]
Iceman’s deployment has arrived.
"wealth" means different things to different people. for me it means being able to live quietly and comfortably, adopt a pet, donate to charities I care about, be able to take care of myself in my old age, and eventually leave an inheritance to my loved ones, who will then be forced by the stipulations of my will to be locked at midnight in a Mystery Mansion and solve an elaborate series of puzzles while being mysteriously killed off one by one. and i don't think that's so much to ask
having FUN guessing from the notes who didn't read the full post
I go to school far away from my parents and lately i've been feeling kinda homesick. Just missing hanging out with my family, eating dinner with them, chatting with our neighbours and sleeping in my childhood bedroom. Calling home helps a little but it's not the same, you know?
If you feel like it, could you maybe write something about Leo being homesick? (Or any of the cubs really). Thank you <3
I also go to school really far away, so I totally understand the homesick feeling. And I DEFINITELY miss my bed at home, I've got a nice mattress and a memory foam pillow that my dog loves to steal when I'm not there.
Have some homesick sunshine, a sweet Finn O'Hara, and Logan trying his hardest to be a chef! Oh, and Mom of the YearTM Eloise Knut. <3
Credits to @lumosinlove !!
Someone brought up wanting to see some team spirit…
Vaincre spoilers below!
Leo’s Plant Corner
Finn/Leo/Logan: plants and domesticity and social media mishaps (G)
Inspired by me finding new leaves on a fiddle leaf I thought was dead 😌🪴 characters belong to @lumosinlove 💘
It was an understandable mistake, really.
Suburbia
Happy belated birthday, Logan! SO much credit and love to @lumosinlove for the Cubs <3
can you write something about the cubs seeing each others childhood rooms/homes for the first time?
we kind of got a little with Leo’s home in NOLA and that moment of Logan thinking about walking through the house and “looking for signs of him” was just so freaking precious I NEED MORE
I just imagine in my mind leo had an attic room that was floor to ceiling wall to wall book shelves and Finn just being OBSESSED and them seeing old pictures of each other ugh it would just be so adorable
:)
TW: MCD spoilers in Little Women!
Credits to @lumosinlove
Logan Tremblay - #10 - Doux-amer (Bitter-sweet)
For Day 10 of Fic-O-Ween (much thanks to @noots-fic-fests and, always, @lumosinlove).
Pairing: The Cubs Rating: T - sexual situations vaguely referenced.
CW: Food
Description: Logan's first night and last night at the Dumais's as their billet.
---FIRST---
There was a hum coming from somewhere.
Logan had tried to ignore it, but as the night crawled on, it felt as though it was drilling itself right into his head.
NEED to read about Finn and leo in absolute awe of Logan’s muscles and how strong he is
You are so real for this ask, I fear.
Content warning for mention of nefarious activities, but, once again, nothing explicit!
All credits to @lumosinlove <3
o'knutzy week day three!
today i offer up: a loose interpretation of the prompt, a return to deep fandom roots in the form of a little sickfic. gratuitously fluffy boyfriends, big strong hockey boys being baby, and a kiss on the nose from me to you. note; non-graphic description of illness
{@oknutzyweek2023 organizing cred & @lumosinlove everything cred}
so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god
okay so i just got my dream job??? a week after applying to it?? and now i’m thinking….maybe this is the good luck post
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
i need all the help i can get for finals
Hey so
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
So you know.
This might be the real one, y’all.
Happy Halloween! Would love more of F is for Frankenstein! 🧟♂️
a continuation of 1
Twelve hours later JARVIS has brought him up to speed on what was clearly the weirdest week of his life, the fabrication units are working on a better container for his corpse than the damn suit, and they’ve identified nearly a hundred ways that this plan isn’t going to work.
JARVIS isn’t deterred.
One of the advantages of being a synthetic person is that he can’t feel exhaustion physically, although this whole experience has confirmed that he can feel it mentally. The downside to this is that he doesn’t have any sort of natural que to alert him to the passage of time.
Which means he doesn’t have any idea how long it’s been until it occurs him to check and he frowns. There’s something not quite right, besides the obvious. “Did you – shouldn’t I have gotten some calls or something by now? What did you tell them?”
It’s been almost twenty four hours since he died. Even with the clean up from a massive alien invasion to see too, he’s sort of expected someone to reach out to him. Agent Coulson is such a stickler for timely debriefs –
Ah. He was such a stickler for timely debriefs. Tony isn’t the only one that hadn’t gotten out of this mess alive.
“Sir has received eighty nine assorted calls and texts from Miss Potts, fifty three from Colonel Rhodes, one hundred and twelve from Mr. Hogan, and seventeen from various SHIELD personnel. Two of those are from Director Fury personally. There have been close to a thousand from various news and media companies, but those have been ignored and deleted per Sir’s standing orders.”
It’s amazing how well he’s able to synthesize and interpret emotion. He’d installed a rudimentary AI into – well, himself, he guesses, and that combined with the memory dump is really exceeding all of his expectations. He knows this because he’s appalled. “JARVIS! What the hell? If we’re going to convince the world I’m not dead, we have to talk to people!”
“Is that what we’re going to do?” JARVIS asks.
There’s steel in his voice, a warning buried in there. TONY’s heard that tone before but never, ever directed at him.
Except it’s not. Jarvis would never talk to Tony Stark like that, but he’s not Tony Stark. He’s just one more robot and AI for Jarvis to corral, although sophistication wise he’s several steps ahead of his helper bots. Except he might not be, because not even Butterfingers would be dumb enough to agree to something like this.
“It’s not going to work,” he says harshly, because it isn’t. “But yeah, I guess that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Calling Miss Potts,” JARVIS says promptly, and Jesus, that’s not what he meant at all.
“Don’t,” he hisses, but of course it’s too late and Pepper picks up immediately.
“Tony?” she asks, voice shaky and hoarse and faint. She’s been crying. She’s been crying hard enough that it’s stolen her voice and he knows Jarvis was focused on other things, but he could have at least sent her a text. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
He breathes and then leans over, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He doesn’t even have an omelette to hide behind this time. He knows he’s dead and he’s seriously considering the idea that this is hell.
“Tony?” she repeats, voice going up several notches in the way he hates. She’s afraid. He hates when she’s afraid.
He forces him mouth to move, forces words pass his lips. “Hey, Pep.”
“Oh god, Tony,” she says and then there are tears again. He wishes he could hold her, could kiss her tears away and could fold his arms around her delicate shoulder and tuck her beneath his chin, keeping her safe and keeping her close. Except he can’t do any of that, because he’s not Tony Stark. “Tony, Tony – you left so quickly and we couldn’t find you and no one’s been able to get in contact with you and JARVIS is offline in the tower and – where are you? Are you okay? I watched you fly that bomb into the portal, and,” she has to cut herself off to try and keep from crying again.
You watched me die, he thinks, although he obviously doesn’t say it. “Hey, breathe for me, okay? Deep calming breaths, I know you have a lot experience with those around me-”
“Don’t tell me to breathe!” she snaps. “Where are you, Tony? What’s going on?”
He hesitates. They haven’t discussed this, and they really should have before JARVIS put that call through. Unless this is a test, and wow, his AI are such assholes. That old curse about having kids that are just like you is making more sense by the second.
“Something happened to my memory,” he says, which is probably the only true thing he’ll be able to tell her and will hopefully cover the gaps of things that JARVIS couldn’t tell him. “I got here and passed out and I just woke up and I panicked and I don’t – I saw space, and the – the aliens, which is so weird to say Pepper, I need you to fully appreciate how weird that is, but my head is killing me and nothing makes sense. The last memory I have on Earth is us running final checks on the clean energy prototype.”
He's a terrible person. Or, well, a terrible android. Whatever.
“Where is here?” she presses, her voice softening and strengthening both. It’s always so much easier for her get her bearings when she’s the one taking care of him, which is probably why she’s always so steady. She’s always taking care of him. “Where are you, Tony?”
There’s no getting around this one. Jarvis probably won’t be happy about it, but TONY isn’t really happy with him right now either. “Malibu. I’m at the Malibu house. Sorry, I don’t know why I came here – I mean, I really don’t, I was blacked out for most of it. Give me a couple hours for everything to stop spinning and I’ll head back to New York. Wait, are you still in New York? You were going have to leave early for that thing after we tested the prototype-”
“I am in New York now,” she says, almost sounding calm. “Do not fly the suit if things are spinning Tony, I swear to god.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine, just a little spinning, you’re so dramatic-”
“Tony!” she interrupts, but the hitch in her voice is laughter instead of tears. “God, Tony. I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you, so, so much.”
If there is a hell for androids, that’s where he’s going.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m glad you’re okay too, Pep.” He can’t say it but he has to say it because Tony would say it, because Tony loves saying it, because he loves her so much that it sits heavier on his chest than the arc reactor ever could. “I love you too.”
He stares at his hands for a long time after the call ends. His fingerprints are Tony’s, of course, and his hair is Tony’s and his memories are Tony’s and this feeling that he wants to call love belongs to Tony too. None of it is his.
Well, except the guilt. That’s definitely his.
“Incoming call from Colonel Rhodes,” JARVIS announces.
“Answer it,” he says. Why is he so damn tired? He’ll have to run a diagnostic on his processors later.
There’s nothing but harsh breathing down the line, filling every corner of the workshop. TONY thinks, maybe a little hysterically, that it’s the only breathing happening here. He’s designed to mimic it, but it’s nothing besides that, mimicry. “Hi Papa Bear, how are things?”
The heavy breathing stops, for so long that TONY wonders if they got disconnected, then Rhodey bites out, “I’m going to kill you, Tony! I’m too damn old for this, you can’t keep giving me heart attacks every time I take my eyes off you!”
Too late. Tony’s already dead.
“You’re only two years older than me,” he says. “If it weren’t for me, you would have been the youngest freshman at MIT. Besides, a heart attack or two is character building, I’ve had like. Seven. Ish.”
“Reminding me how many times you’ve almost died is not your smartest move right now,” Rhodey says. “Tell me you’re okay.”
It’s a demand, an order, firm and unyielding like he’s one of Rhodey’s underlings. Except that Tony was giving orders way before Rhodey was, with the whole running his own multi-billion dollar business thing, and that tone of voice has never worked on him. Still, he says, “I’m okay.”
“Tony,” he says warningly, clearly not believing him, which is fair enough. He is lying.
TONY sighs, hanging his head like he can stretch the tension out of him, but that’s not how things work anymore. He’s vibranium and silicone and some other interesting materials and all his tension is mental. “Sour patch, I’m fine. Okay? Confused as all hell, but I’m okay. I’m sorry I worried you. I really didn’t mean to.”
“You never mean to,” Rhodey says, but his voice has softened and lowered. It sounds like he’s holding the phone even closer. “You almost never mean to.”
“It’s just difficult, is the thing, because you’re a little prone to worrying, a worrywart, as your mother might say-”
“My mother worries more about you than me and always has even though I used to be only one us getting blown up,” he says.
TONY pauses, considering. “Well, she is a smart lady.”
“Damn straight,” he agrees. “Pepper says you’re in Malibu. I can be there in two hours.”
“No!” he shouts, then winces. His eyes skitter over to the suit holding Tony’s body. They need a plan and that plan can’t involve Rhodey being here in two hours. “Don’t. Stay with Pepper. Please.”
“She’s fine,” Rhodey retorts. “You-”
“I’m fine,” he interrupts. “I’m fine, she’s fine, we’re both fine, except she’s in the city that was recently invaded by murderous aliens and I’m not and I have a suit of armor with repulsor technology and she doesn’t, so. Stay with her. Please.”
The silence drags on then Rhodey lets out an aggravated sigh. “Fine. But get your ass over here and if you miss another call from either of us I’m heading over, no matter what you say.”
“Sir yes sir,” he says.
He expects Rhodey to hang up on him then, but he lingers, nothing but his real, non synthetic breathing on the other end. “You really scared me this time. I saw the news reports and then we couldn’t find you-”
“Hey,” he says softly. A bomb and Tony disappearing and Rhodey unable to anything about it. Tony wasn’t the only one of them that had nightmares after Afghanistan. Neither of them had ever been particularly good at sleeping, but it was nearly impossible those months after, when he and Rhodey were fighting and Tony was hiding Iron Man and they still crawled into the same bed because Rhodey got frantic if he reached out in the middle of the night and found the bed empty. Which he often would, considering how much time Tony was spending in his workshop.
They shared a bed more after Afghanistan than before it. Rhodey had been willing to risk the paparazzi and exposure if his other option was staring up at his ceiling and having a panic attack about Tony being gone. Tony had been bitter about that, which certainly hadn’t helped their fight about weapons manufacturing any.
Pepper’s nightmares had been easier. She’d only been his assistant and friend at the time, after all. She would call him at two or three or four in the morning – or all three – and have some sort of urgent question or something for him to sign and he just went along with it because she just needed to hear his voice to fall back asleep and he’d learned after the first teary voicemail and alert from JARVIS that when he didn’t pick up, her vitals were out of acceptable range, per the prototype StarkWatch on her wrist.
It wasn’t until after they got together that she told him she actually drove to his house most nights and called him from her car rather than her bed. Just in case he didn’t answer, which wasn’t logical and didn’t make any sense at all but Pepper hadn’t pretended it had.
They’d all gone a little crazy, after Gulmira, but they’d settled.
But this is going to bring it all bubbling up and if TONY doesn’t figure out a way to reassure them then they’re going to want to stick close to him like they had before and he can’t let them do that. He can’t keep up pretending to be Tony forever and it’s going to be either Pepper or Rhodey who figures it out. He doesn’t need to help that process along at all.
Except that since they watched Tony fly a nuke into space and then hadn’t heard from him in two days, that’s basically impossible. The fact that it wasn’t three months and from their perspective he’s actually fine is going to help, but the level of damage control he’s capable of here is fairly minimal.
Still, he has to try.
“Honey,” he says, making his voice soft and warm like Tony only does when they’re alone. He doesn’t know where Rhodey is now, if he’s somewhere private, but he doesn’t hang up or stop him. All the stupid nicknames were fun and genuinely affectionate but they were also cover for the times that Tony slipped and called him something he shouldn’t, a little too genuine and not quite kitsch enough to pass muster. “Love, it’s okay. I got my head knocked around some, that’s all. And because I freaked out and ended up on the wrong side of the country, I need you in New York, doing what I can’t. That’s all. I’ll be there soon.”
If there’s a hell for androids, TONY is going there and the hellfire will be hot enough to melt his vibranium core, which, you know, is going to the be least of what he deserves.
“I love you,” Rhodey says. TONY closes his eyes. “You know that, right, baby? I do.”
It’s a bad, bad sign that Rhodey is the one using pet names, especially over the phone. “I know. Of course I know. I’ve always known.”
Over two decades of secrets and hiding and fooling around with women he didn’t give a shit about, before Pepper, and through every lonely, angry, desperately sad moment of it, Tony had known that Rhodey loved him. He wouldn’t have put up with that shit for anything less.
Tony died knowing that Rhodey loved him. TONY is sure of it. It’s the worst sort of cold comfort and he’s glad that he can’t offer it.
“I love you,” TONY echoes, because Tony’s been saying it for twenty six years and there’s no good reason for him to stop now.
Except that Tony is dead. He’ll never tell Rhodey that he loves him again.
One day Rhodey and Pepper will find out that the truth and know that while they heard Tony’s voice telling them what they needed to hear, while they let relief nudge out the fear, Tony was dead and cold and gone.
He hates this. This wasn’t what he was programmed for.
This isn’t what Tony would have wanted. But until he can convince JARVIS of that, they’re all stuck in this hell of the AI’s making.
And holy shit just like that I’m back in the rabbit hole except I really just wanna read 100k of this
I’ll cry if I think about them for too long but you’re Charles Rowland you’re a biracial punk and you’ve been getting the shit kicked out of you by your father your entire life but you see a Pakistani kid getting beat for being Pakistani and you can’t help it, you’re afraid but you stop it. You’re half Indian why are you any different? The racist little white boys agree. They beat you too. You make it away. You’re cold, so cold and something’s very wrong with you, and then you see a light. But you’re not dead. It’s another boy your age and he tells you he’s dead. He died in this same shitty boarding school and he reads you a bedtime story as you fall asleep. You’re dead now and he’s still here. He knew you were dying and he didn’t want you to be scared. He crawled out of Hell and the first thing he did was comfort you as you lay dying.
Why wouldn’t you run from death with him? Why wouldn’t you spend your eternity with him? Why wouldn’t you love him?
What is this about the tumblr staff wanting to sell art data to midjourney?
An ex-colleague of mine mentioned yesterday that there may be contacts between Automattic and midjourney in that direction, but nothing is public yet and I don't have any more info. They probably won't have anything specific to share either, since they left the company weeks ago too. That being said:
I have no reason to doubt my ex-coworker word, they are a trustworthy person.
Tumblr's CEO has been absurdly enthusiastic (comically, even) about AI, and is a big fan of LLMs and 'AI' companies.
A deal with midjourney could solve tumblr financial issues (not the same company, but openAi is paying up to 5 million/year to news companies to use their content as training data... tumblr generates several orders of magnitude more content than any newspaper or any media company and it only would need a 20 to 30 million per year deal to be profitable)
So I don't have any extra info yet, but I'm keeping my ears open.
And I just got confirmation from a second ex-colleague that a deal with midjourney has been brewing since months ago. Not any extra details, just that's a real thing.
Shit, I don't see any way for this to happen that doesn't make it an apocalyptic event the size of the porn ban. Fuck.
Shit. This may be pure chance and coincidence, and it's not he is in a position to be able to talk about anything, but seeing prominent staff members announcing they are moving their original photography out of tumblr just two weeks ago seems a pretty significant cue of shit to be about to hit the fan.
Just tested. It’s possible to swap out pictures on already-published posts. So in that case, a solution:
Nightshade your photo posts now.
Even if you don’t post your own art anymore, go back to your old stuff and watermark it.
Do it ASAP, before the deal goes through and the scraping begins.
This will not only protect your art, but has the opportunity to fuck over this deal on a pretty large scale. The more of these posts that are glazed or poisoned, the less valuable this deal becomes for tumblr and midjourney.
Share this with everyone. And i do mean everyone.