Hundreds Of Thousands Of People Came Out Today In London To March For A Free Palestine. Hundreds Of Thousands

to those of you who are moving here from tiktok, from someone whos used both tiktok and tumbr for years...

1. DO NOT censor your posts

dont censor sex, abuse, suicide, dont censor it. we dont have censors like tiktok does, you wont be banned for talking about these things and tagging them properly helps people avoid them (also, we dont have shadowbanning here)

2. we dont really have an algorithm

you follow who you follow, and you see posts from who you follow or what you search. the 'for you page' is basically useless here. this also brings me to my next two points

3. dont crosstag

we get it, on tiktok you have to crosstag for reach, but thats not really a thing here. just tag your posts properly (also posters often leave more info about the post in the tags!! and when you reblog stuff you can leave your own notes in the tags, kind of like the old "repost comments" on tiktok)

4. dont expect to go viral/be famous

"viral" isnt really a thing on here (at least not for the average blogger). your posts will probably get 2-10 likes and you wont get nearly as many followers than on tiktok. thats just how tumblr is

5. blocking is your best friend

tiktok is VERY discussion based, and while tumblr is much more discussion based than other social medias, its still not a good place for ragebait/discourse. dont interact, itll make your experience worse in the end, just block and move on

6. you cant go into someone elses house and start rearranging their furniture

this is tumblr, not tiktok. dont diss old tumblr users for how they use the site or try to change them, thats like going into someone elses house and trying to rearrange their furniture. we've been here longer and we're familiar with the site and its culture, either find your niche, adapt, or find a different app

I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life.

It has been 2 weeks since the rapture [I got front stuck] the rest of the world is abandoned and quiet [I can’t hear my head mates] I fear I shall not survive this harsh climate alone as the sickness sets in [I’m not built for being alone, please come back and hold my hand I am not being a brave boy about it]

He said if you poke air holes in the jar yes just be gentle :33

Tumblr my husband is scared of you (He is a tiktok and Twitter refugee) he is afraid you will scoop him up and call him mean names and kick him out and also kill him dead with a gun. Please show him you are well meaning people and if you kill him dead it would be purely accidental

Forneus

Reblog to give the person you reblogged this from motivation to work on their WIPs.

"lol tiktok users would rather learn mandarin than come to tumblr" yeah man that's crazy. who would have thought that people from the video-based dopamine-machine app wouldn't decide to join the text- and image- based no-algorithm website?

i know we're all sick of self-care being a marketing tactic now, but i don't think a lot of us have any other concept of self-care beyond what companies have tried to sell us, so i thought i'd share my favorite self-care hand out

brought to you by how mad i just got at a Target ad

how i feel when someone starts to describe my art style but they consider my rough sketches for quick storyboards as my 'actual art style' and not my fully rendered finished pieces or even my clean and more detailed drawings

Pov: You're obsessed with your mute best friend and he finally realizes that there is no way to make you not love him.

The way my eyes lingered on his fingers wasn’t subtle—I didn’t care if he noticed. No one else had the right to see what I saw, to crave the way I craved. He flexed his hands under my unwavering gaze, his movements hesitant, as if my attention burned into his skin. Then, as if surrendering to the moment, he began to sign, slowly, deliberately, every motion agonizingly precise. It was a performance, and I was his only audience. The words were for me alone, crafted in gestures only I could truly understand.

"Everything I am is yours," he signed, his eyes locking onto mine, desperate, pleading. My breath hitched as his gaze searched my face for a reaction, for validation. But he didn’t need to search. Didn’t he see? Didn’t he know? He belonged to me. Not just his hands, but every inch of him—his heart, his mind, his very existence. If he didn’t understand that yet, I’d make him. I’d carve it into his soul if I had to.

Because no one else could have him. No one else deserved him.