#tagging for visibility

[bulgeun-wihyeob]

reminder to my fellow overwatch enjoyers that fareeha amari is canonically arab . she would not support zionism .

if you love pharah , you should know she deserves better than to be voiced with a phony arab accent by a loud zionist . free palestine , fuck zionism

#deweyposting #overwatch #overwatch 2 #pharah #pharmercy #boycott #current events #free palestine #ow2 #please boost #boost #tagging for visibility #tagging for reach

[coffeexafterxmidnight]

The Token Human - part 1

So that Welcome Home ARG eh? Eh? You know it right, my followers? You should look into it some, it looks like it's shaping up to be something really, really good.

Anyway I'm a sucker for well-made evil children's characters in horror media so I tried to capture the ✨vibes ✨. I don't feel I succeeded, but oh well. Part 1 of a possible series? We'll see.

Reader [gender not stated] pov CW: Body horror, eye horror, size horror[?], creepy puppets, memory alteration, whump? ask to tag Part 2

Nobody else in Home was quite like you. But nobody in Home was quite like anyone else, either! Everyone was different, and unique, and special! That's what Wally told you when you first moved in. And he was right, like he always was. 

But still. Nobody was quite like you. Nobody had hair like yours, on your head, on your arms and legs. Nobody had skin like yours, soft and squishy in a different way than everyone else. Nobody had eyes like yours or ears like yours.

Nobody had hands like yours. And you noticed that right away the first time you held hands with them in a game. You had five fingers total. They had four.

You were pretty sure you were human. Julie was human too, but… a different kind of human, you were pretty sure of that, too. Really, everyone just seemed to be… them. Frank was Frank and Howdy was Howdy, Eddie and Julie and Poppy and Sally and Barnaby were all themselves too.

And Wally…

Wally was your best friend.

That's why when he invited you to his Home, to prepare a surprise party, you jumped right at it. You were always up for a party! You were too big for most of the games they played but you could put up the decorations and light the candles on the cake and clean the hard to reach spots your friends couldn't! You were a perfect fit in Home-

Wally called your name.

"Be careful!"

Bit late for that. In your little thought train you stepped back and right off the little ladder you'd been standing on to clean. It wasn't a bad fall, the step ladder was built for your friends after all. No, it just knocked the air out of you. But it reminded you of something else.

Your friends… didn't really seem to feel pain.

"I'm okay!" You called out as the air returned to you.

Wally had been standing nearby with one hand over his mouth, but lowered it slowly. His smile returned, and he laughed.

"Silly, silly," he said between the distinctive sound of his amusement. "You were thinking too hard!"

Yeah, you were. You laughed with him and sat up. He stood over you now, his soft little hands helping you stand. 

"What were you thinking about?" He asked. "Was it the party?"

You hummed, backtracking your thoughts. What had you been thinking about, really? What set that train of thought rolling…? 

"I think I'm forgetting something again," you said, looking at him.

Wally tilted his head to the side.

"Silly," he said. "You're always forgetting things. What is it this time?"

"I don't know!" You said, smiling. "If I knew, I wouldn't have forgotten it, would I?"

You both laughed, but yours faded sooner than his. Your smile fell. What had you forgotten?

A door creaked and swung open. You and Wally turned towards the sound.

"Maybe," Wally said, "you forgot to eat. Let's go in the kitchen!"

"Okay!" You couldn't remember anything else you could've forgotten so into the kitchen with him you went. 

It was a nice little kitchen, though Wally never seemed to use it much unless you were here. He didn't like anyone seeing him eat. In fact, other than apples, you didn't know what he liked to eat at all. He liked sweets, you knew that much…

As you looked down at the colorful kitchen table, you frowned. You didn't feel hungry, now that you thought about it. You couldn't remember the last time you ate but it didn't seem that long ago. 

Maybe, you thought, running your hand over a scratch on the table, Wally was the hungry one but didn't want to say it. That didn't seem like him though, he was so open and sincere…

Your hand ran over and over the scratch. 

"Hey Wally?" You asked. "What happened to your table?"

Everything seemed quiet.

You lifted your eyes up towards the wall. The quiet stretched on and on. 

You had forgotten something. You had. You knew you had. It was close to you, slipping away from you like dangling strings every time you reached towards it.

It was close to you. Right there. So important. 

What did you forget?

"Wally?"

You looked over your shoulder.

You looked up at him.

Your stomach dropped. With a gasp, you stumbled backwards, away, your eyes wide as you looked at him. Looked up at him.

Wally once proudly told you he was twelve apples tall. You, uh, weren't. You were taller than him by a lot. But now he was tall, taller than you, looking down at you.

He tilted his head.

"Is something wrong, friend?" He said. "You don't look well. Maybe you should… sit down…"

"Wally," you said. "What happened to you?"

His mouth curled up, and your gut churned. That kind of smile didn't fit on Wally's face. That kind of smile shouldn't be possible on his face. He was a puppet - 

A puppet? What was a puppet?

Wally laughed. It shook his shoulders, every syllable moving them in a rhythm. As if string moved his shoulders, but he wasn't that kind of puppet so he couldn't-

What was a puppet?

He tilted his head the other way. Jerked it, really. 

"You're thinking too loud, friend." He jerked his head to the other side. "What do you mean, what's a puppet?" He laughed, ha ha ha. "Silly, silly, silly. That's you. You're my puppet."

His pupils went wide, and it was horrible how familiar it was, the feeling of teeth clenching down on - not your skin not your flesh not your head or your arms or any part of you.

You were. So tired. Like the energy poured out of you into a tiny drain.

My fear, you thought, he's eating my fear.

When he stepped towards you, you heard the click of his shoes on the kitchen tile. Had you ever heard that before? Your mind spun, you stepped away from him again.

"Don't-" you started.

Your name comes from his mouth in a tone you've never heard before.

"I won't," he said. "If you promise to stay."

And you knew exactly what he meant. And you knew you would do anything you had to, so you could go home.

You ran for the door.

It slammed shut.

The handle was meant for puppet hands, not human ones. Your legs gave out from under you as you scrambled with it, nails scratching the wood behind it as you tried to open it. Behind you his footsteps clicked, clicked, clicked towards you.

He said your name again, so sweet, so hungry.

"You don't really want to leave," he said. "I don't believe that at all. I know how much you love it here. We'd all miss you so much."

His arm reached out. His hand, with four fingers, took your wrist and pulled it away from the door. You shook your head, your throat wouldn't make a sound.

"Hey now," he whispered. "No more mysteries this time, okay? Don't go digging into things you don't understand. And everything will be fine."

You felt the teeth again, biting chunks into your mind. The panic. The fear. The dread. Gone, gone, gone. 

My memories - you thought. He's going to eat my memories, too. He's going to eat my memories and put me back at square one. I was so close. I was almost-

You took a deep breath and groaned. Your eyes opened to a strange place, one you didn't recognize for a moment or two. The evening sun streamed in through a window, onto the couch you laid on. You groaned again and covered your eyes with your arm.

"Where am I?"

A familiar voice called from another room. You lifted up your arm, and smiled. Of course. You were at Wally's Home.

"What happened?" You asked.

"You fell off the ladder!" Wally said. "You must've been thinking too hard again. You think too much, I think."

You laughed a bit. "Maybe I do. Falling off a ladder? That's a bad time to get distracted."

You frowned. Wally watched for a moment.

"Did you forget something again?" He said 

You sat up fully with the realization.

"The games!" You cried. "I left the games for the party at my house!"

Wally laughed. Was it just your imagination or did it seem… relieved almost?

"You can get them tomorrow," he said. "It's getting dark. You should stay here for tonight. I don't want you to trip on anything."

You thought about it, frowning at the patchwork blanket draped over you.

It would definitely be bad if you tripped and hurt yourself in the dark, you thought. Wally was right, like he always was.

"Okay!" You said at last. "Thanks Wally." You smiled. "You're a good friend."

#welcome home #welcome home puppet show #wally darling #welcome home wally #welcome home fanfic #welcome home fandom #yes yes this is cringe I know BUT LOOK AT THE SCARY PUPPET #reader pov #gender neutral reader #could be read as #welcome home x reader #yandere wally darling #tagging for visibility #I didn't really intend for it to be that way but if I can see it I think everyone else can too

[buglover3000]

hi if u are a fan or know a fan of indie queer novels I suggest u read this thread giving evidence that author freydis moon is faking being latine and has done so in the past (amongst other things). as a queer latine person it is disgusting to see someone so shamelessly take the opportunities of actual queer latine especially as we are so underrepresented within publishing spaces. unless there is solid evidence suggesting otherwise (and based on moon’s own reaction) I suggest u stop supporting them and plz support actual fellow queer latine authors

#not my usual post but idc this upset me so much #if solid evidence debunking it comes out I will delete this #but as a queer latine person im allowed to be upset a white person is using my identity to push their career #freydis moon #I feel so bad for anyone who was close to them who didn’t see it coming #they were on my tbr but this properly pissed me off #books #queer #queer books #tagging for visibility

[718966914]

Old Illustration of BlackFlint and his mother, doubt I’ll redraw this anytime soon despite being unsatisfied.

#Sedenu #oc #not wc #tagging for visibility #warrior cats #not warrior cats

[howtotrainyourdragonweek]

Prompts are out!

Welcome to the HTTYD fandom week 2024!

PROMPTS -

‣ Day 1: "Welcome to Berk!" | Strike class

‣ Day 2: dragon training | Stoker class

‣ Day 3: fishing with your dragon | Tidal class

‣ Day 4: wings | Boulder class

‣ Day 5: (to/the) forge | Sharp class

‣Day 6: free prompt choice | Tracker class

‣Day 7: Your favorite dragon | your favorite character| Mystery class

alternative prompts:

‣ childhood memories

‣A day in the life

‣flying

‣trust

‣cove

#httyd #httydweek2024 #Prompts #prompt list #how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #Toothless #tagging for visibility

[pettypiastri]

playing house

arber xhekaj x fem reader

wc: 2.6k

warnings: swearing, minor injury/tending to injury, reader is disappointed in themselves, financial insecurity, hurt/comfort

a/n: injuries are not accurate to the specific fight mentioned, idiot as a term of endearment :) feedback is always appreciated, my inbox is a safe space and anons are on!

You’ve been playing house with Arber for the past few weeks now. After Marty gave Arber the disappointed look for being tardy to practice once (literally, just once), he used it as the perfect excuse for you to half move in with him. He’d slyly placed a pink toothbrush next to his black one and bought duplicates of your favorite products. He later admitted– with a scratch of his neck and blushing cheeks– when you asked him in a mini panic why he had the Laneige lip mask on his bedside table, that he’d snooped around your apartment and snapped pics of your drawers when he was over.

“It’s not a big deal baby,” he’d cooed, bundling you up tightly in his arms. “Think of it like a test run since your lease is ending soon. If you like being here you can just move in then!” You’d held your protest on the matter back for once in your life when you cast your eyes around and saw the room riddled with your presence: hair ties on his bedside table, your shirts cuddled up neatly next to his in the closet, extra firm pillows stacked on one side of the bed, even your bra, discarded hastily, that you really did need to pick up. The idea did make logical sense.

However, it still gave you pause. You knew Arber would insist on paying for the rent in full. You’ve always hated him spending anything on you for fear that if things ever went sour, it might be something you’d feel guilty about. Arber just didn’t get it. He should, coming from a blue collar background, but at the first whiff of being able to provide for himself and the people he loves without worry, he did just that. He takes pride in doing that. Though he is not very long removed from the lifestyle that you still find yourself in, your hesitations ring foreign to him sometimes. Your insistence on buying things for the apartment and yourself, saving for months and still having to scrounge to fly out for the odd away game, and skipping drinks at the bar to keep your tab down, have all been points of contention in your relationship. Arber just wants to provide for you, keep you from worrying about the aforementioned things, but maintaining financial independence is something you’ve emphasized, potentially too many times, as being important to you. 

Still, Arber is unrelenting. Sneaking his credit card over the counter while tempting you to look at the cute dog across the street, food for two (well, three with how he eats) appearing in his fridge, the odd designer piece being placed in one of your drawers, be it at your place or his… He always insisted, with a damning kiss to your protesting lips, that you’d pay him back in other ways.

And so tonight, you guess, is one of those ways. Arber had dummied Zach Kassian in the first. You watched with held breath as he rag dolled the older man to the ice and marched himself right to the box, arms pumping the air with testosterone riddled adrenaline. While in the moment, you always watch his fights through split fingers, his time in the sin bin and any replays you might sneakily watch before he gets home, ignite a different set of feelings. Arber had found out about your little secret after his first preseason fight; you’d had three cups of tea the next day and took a half day at work. Unfortunately, you think you’ve Pavlov’d the idiot into fighting more. Much to the dismay of your Arber’s medicine cabinet. While you’re resolute on not giving in tonight, you saw his split hand leaking blood onto the penalty box floor and know it will need more tending to when he gets home. 

Home. To your shared apartment. The one you have a set of keys to that is on a ridiculously high floor of a beautiful building in downtown Montreal. A sigh escapes your lips as you forcibly push down the guilt creeping up your throat like heartburn. 

You busy yourself with menial tasks until Arber gets back: empty and reload the dishwasher, put a load of towels in the wash, shower and do your skincare, write a grocery list for the week… Even the chores remind you of your grievance. The realization of how much Arber’s little plan has caused codependence to permeate your lifestyle releases a huff from your chest. 

Fear has driven your active prevention of this type of lifestyle well thus far. But clearly not well enough as you take in the sheer amount Arber has spent on you, as exemplified by the apartment, and how interconnected your daily lives are. Your frustration mounts at being incapable of upholding multiple things so morally important to you. Arber is not to blame. Not for loving you fiercely and wanting your life to be comfortable. You just wish you’d been more perceptive of the changes and flimsiness of your backbone. 

With your annoyance peaking and all the timing of a dumbass idiot, Arber waltzes through the door. He radiates cockiness as he takes in your form standing mere feet from the front door.

“Waiting for me were ya sweetheart?”

You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes; your childish annoyance at how much you love your boyfriend and love living in his stupid fucking apartment with him, taking over. You turn on your heel and begin a pouty stomp up the stairs. Curse him for being so pretty and confident and stupid and and– just absolutely everything you love to hate right now. 

“Baby that was my best fight yet and you’re gonna make me work for it?” His voice drifts up the stairs after you but your pace is unrelenting. And it’s the fact that if you weren’t currently in the middle of an unjustified rageful spiral, you’d have already jumped him (and he knows it) that has you retaliating,

“Jesus Arber! Maybe you should stop assuming that doing your job entitles you to sex!” 

Yet down by the doorway, Arber, the self proclaimed kind and gentle guy, accustomed to the sharpness of your hangry tongue or the unpredictability of your insecurities, gives pause rather than rising to your jab. He’s still for a moment. After a heartbeat, the arc of his confused brow accompanies him toeing off his dress shoes and his dissipating cockiness. He pauses before following you up the stairs, unsure if he should take his tie off or leave it on for you to loosen like always. He sets his keys in the bowl on the entryway table, something you’d brought over the other day. He notices a pink gel pen list hanging on the fridge, pinned by a magnet from your favorite coffee shop. 

With assured steps, Arber makes his way upstairs, following the warm white glow toward your en suite bathroom. He peers cautiously around the doorway. Your eyes, filled with an annoyance similar to that of a rain dampened cat, meet his. 

“Well come on then. I saw the cut on your hand.” You mutter, emotionless, eyes darting back toward where you’re rifling through bandaids and antiseptic. 

“Still gonna play nurse even when you’re pissed with me?” Arber’s question lifts at the end, forced upward reactionarily by a squeeze of his heart. He knows then that you’re not really upset with him; he’d have had the door slammed in his face promptly after a pillow and blanket were tossed in his direction if you were. He takes a cautious step toward you, arms swirling around your torso and head dropping to the perfectly shaped crevice in your neck. 

The last remaining shreds of petty protest against a crime Arber himself hasn’t even committed, have you writhing gently in his grasp. 

“Arber–”

“Shhh,” he hushes softly, “ ‘M not tryna get with you. Put those claws away will ya?”

Your head rolls back against his ducked shoulder. You refuse to meet his eyes as the last of your anger bleeds away into tepid frustration; your love for being in his strong arms at any time grows to outweigh your desire to maintain this cold front and shrug him off. The stillness of your frame urges Arber to press an unassuming kiss against your soft skin.. and another… and maybe one more for good luck.

“What’s going on baby? Something happen?” The roughness of his quiet voice causes your pulse to hum. This feels like home, you think, which fuels a surge of fresh frustration. 

“I– just take your shirt off would you? I’m tired and wanna get this over with so I can go to bed.” You surge forward to break from his grasp. Spinning on your heel, you cross your arms indignantly to accompany the pointed look you give him. You watch Arber pick his words carefully. 

“You always do it for me…” 

It’s obvious then that he’s not nervous or frustrated or treading carefully with you. He’s being his normal teddy bear self in hopes that his vulnerability will encourage yours. Your permafrost layer melts at the realization. Now shy under his honest gaze, your eyes fall to his dress shirt and tie. You’d picked this tie for him before he left. Arber always claimed he was color half-blind. Really he just wanted to try and kiss you while your focused face was so close to his, your tongue peeking out in concentration. Nimble hands reach to unthread the knot he haphazardly retied postgame.

He’s silent as he watches, though his eyes speak loudly of his love. With self assuredness he has come to expect, you place the unraveled tie on the counter behind you and move swiftly to unbutton his shirt. 

“Can’t get blood on this damn thing again. Dry cleaner can’t get the stain out my ass…” Arber smiles at your muttered musings. Your hands slip over his now bare chest to rid him of the garment. Without instruction, he turns to sit on the closed toilet. With sure hands, you reach for the isopropyl alcohol you’ve singed his skin with many times now and prepare a cotton round. You notice you don’t have to prod at his knee with your own: he’s already created a space for you between his legs.

“Why are you upset baby?”

Your eyes flick to his for the first time in a few bated minutes. Arber’s stare is so genuine you chew your answer a few times before opening your mouth. Having to say it out loud causes you to bristle one more fruitless time. 

“Cause we’re like… so fucking domestic its ridiculous.” Your hands fiddle restlessly with the drenched cotton pad, not moving to press it against his skin. 

Arber’s endeared smirk is immediate. He thinks it's cute when you’re frustrated. Unafraid hands reach for the back of your thighs, tugging gently to place you well within his personal space. His strong fingers brush up and down your legs. You reach to thumb at his collarbone, looking for something to do to dissipate your uneasy energy. Arber gives your ass a gentle squeeze, drawing you impossibly closer to him. 

“Soo.. you’re pissed about a pink gel pen list on our fridge…” His teasing tone has Hades flames sparking in your eyes again. Without hesitation or remorse, you press the cotton pad idle in your hand to a cut under his left eye. 

“Oww shit! Fuck baby give a guy some warn–” 

“Your fridge!” You hiss, before gasping and falling slightly forward. You catch yourself on Arber’s shoulder and try not to blush at the way your boyfriend’s hands squeezed and pulled at your body on reflex. 

“Y/N we’ve been over this.” Arber groans softly, both in pain and frustration. 

“Okay and? Don’t get pissy with me about it if I wanna make it clear that this is your apartment and–.” 

“Sweetheart, you just shoved rubbing alcohol so hard into my face I felt it in my ass okay? Gimme a break here.” His sigh is muddled by a breathy chuckle, his grip loosening a fraction. 

Arber creaks his eyes open slowly to find you sheepish and blushing. Your stare however, in contention, remains confident, unwavering. Arber’s hands skate over the curve of your ass up to your waist. His eyes are kind. 

“Come ‘ere. White flag baby… truce.” Always bending at the will of his strong hands, you let him move you to straddle his hips. His hands roam innocently, Arber finding comfort in your closeness. A gentle drag of the cotton across his cut has you setting the piece aside. Your arms come to reach around his neck, flicking his backwards hat off his head. His nose brushes yours. You fiddle gently with his damp hair. 

“Soo… it’s not our house?” Arber asks gently after a few beats. Your bangs fall from behind your ear as you shake your head softly. With careful fingers, Arber drags his hand over your cheek to replace your hair behind your ear. As you lean into his palm a feather light fraction, Arber hums.

“Alright… that’s okay sweetheart. I get it.” Another pause. “Are you scared about it being our house? What is it that’s upsetting you?” His voice is sure, even. 

You try to craft your explanation but it’s wildly distracting looking into Arber’s eyes and seeing the moon he’s hung for you. Even worse when he places the softest kiss on your lips.

“You can do it honey, it’s okay.” With an encouraging tap to your ass, you find your voice.

“I… I’m worried you’ll resent me for taking so much from you.” 

Your head droops before you can see the confusion quickly overridden by love in Arber’s expression. His nose bumps your forehead.

“You’re my home… what’s mine is yours.” 

He says it like it’s simple.

The unassuming kiss on your forehead and then cheek makes you believe maybe it is.

You’re sure it is when you see the purity of Arber’s expression. Your thumb reaches out to brush his cheek in hopes to see if he’s real; that a man could look at you the way Arber is right now.

“You can still be as independent as you want, I’m sorry if I’ve been too much.” You shake your head insistently, not knowing how to articulate verbally that the way he loves you is already more than you think you deserve. 

“That’s why we’re doing baby steps though, right? Until you see I’m for real.” He adds.

A snort follows a few moments later as does a teasing squeeze from Arber.

“I mean you’re the one who brought the onion chopper over and that ridiculously specific laundry detergent.” He smiles at you as he jostles you in his lap, boyish glee making him the most handsome you’ve ever seen him. Your armor falls without your consent, a smile to match Arber’s betraying you. 

“You told me you love the onion dicer…” At this Arber laughs. You lean forward to kiss the smile off his lips, getting lost for a moment.

“You’re right I did.” He pulls you back with his hand splayed across your neck and thumb under your chin to kiss you deeper. The feel of his hard chest against yours and his locks slipping through your fingers distracts you for a moment. You’re so in sync with each other you’re not sure if your hips roll over his on your own accord or if Arber does it for you.

But he’s not done. Suggestive hands reveal the answer when he murmurs lowly, “Now finish up so I can take care of you.”

#arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj imagine #montreal canadiens #montreal canadiens hockey #habs hockey #habs #kaiden guhle #juraj slafkovsky #cole caufield #nick suzuki #tagging for visibility #<3 #my writing #hockey imagine

[crackpaw]

#wc #brightheart #my art #tagging for visibility #warrior cats #warriors #swiftpaw #thunderclan

[sapphic-agent]

I don't blame you guys. My anger is only secondhand, I can't imagine actually reading this dumpster fire like y'all

#mha critical #bnha critical #horikoshi critical #anti bakugou katsuki #tagging for visibility #also because i hate him #last mha post #probably #I've said most of what i needed to say

[truthfully-system]

🌈💭Requeer⭐🌙

Requeer is a re-imagining of radqueer, without its harmful aspects.

We believe being able to have a name for your identidy is good, but expressing every identidy is not the best, I think everyone would agree that expressing that you wanna say the n slur as a white person is bad, so there has to be set a line.

Requeer is:

Proship/ship-neutral/anti-harassment

Pro-good in faith identities

Anti TransID - pro WishID

Anti transitioning for age/race/disability for the white, abled, and those of any age

Pro mspec identities

Anti truscum/radfem/battleaxe

Pro (anti-contact) paraphilia

Our emojis are 🌈💭⭐🌙 in full, or 🌈⭐ and 💭🌙 in separate

I'll add to the list as it goes, or remove from it as the community requests ans convinces me!

#tagging for visibility #pro rq 🌈🍓 #rq community #rqc🌈🍓 #rq 🌈🍓 #rq safe #radqueer safe #pro radqueer #rad queer #radqueer #radical queer #transid #pro transid #anti transid #transid sade #anti radqueer #requeer #rq 🌈⭐ #rqc 🌈⭐ #pro rq 🌈⭐

[moved-to-darkplanets]

Friendly reminder to treat linkers like they are what they say they are and to quit emphasizing that they know they're not REALLY thier identity when you try to explain them.

Even though it's a chosen identity, it's still an identify-as term and community. I feel like linkers don't really get taken seriously by the community at large because they're "just roleplaying" even if they're attempting ego alteration by being one.

#Otherkin #tagging for visibility #Alterhuman #Copinglink #Otherlink #Especially with the push to call anything with even the slightest element of voluntarity a link #Polaris.txt

[bulgeun-wihyeob]

this isn't my typical pfp edit or post but i'm hoping it will do something

boycott overwatch season 9 ; don't play , don't buy anything , spread the word . jen cohn is an outspoken zionist and an appallingly poor casting decision for our beloved pharah . we need our message to be heard by blizzard . we will not tolerate their silence in regards to jen cohn's support of the palestinian genocide . recast pharah .

please remember to keep boycotting brands on the bds list . keep reposting and liking coverage on palestine . donate if you are able . get your daily clicks in on arab.org . call your representatives , demand a ceasefire . this is not a passing trend . hundreds of thousands of palestinian lives , men women and children , are in danger . thousands have been lost already . silence makes you complicit . be on the right side of history , keep screaming for palestine .

please also be aware that not all jewish people are zionists , and not all zionists are jewish . antisemitism is completely unnecessary , distracting , and vile . the israeli government does not speak for all jewish people . do not try to hold innocent people accountable for israel's actions . do not lose sight of who and what we are fighting for . free palestine .

#deweyposting #recast pharah #free palestine #palestine #free gaza #gaza #overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #profile pics #pfp edit #pharah #fareeha amari #ow pharah #i stand with palestine #tagging for reach #tagging for visibility #boycott #ana amari #ow ana #ana overwatch #current events #israel is committing genocide #israel is a terrorist state #fuck israel #all eyes on palestine

[cryptidanathema]

So yeah I just wanna put it out there again, after befriending the Literal God Of Papyton who helped me realize just how uncomfortable I was making people in my previous blog, that I no longer really have anything against Papyton as a ship and I'm sorry for all the bad vibes I spread in the fandom. It was never really about Papyton even, I just hated seeing misogynist tropes being applied to my faves and overly aggressive shippers, two things which the vast majority of Papyton shippers left in the fandom aren't doing. I essentially saw Underlust and assumed you were all Like That and that wasn't okay of me at all.

I was also unaware that during the peak fandom a lot of Papyton shippers were the target of homophobic abuse (which is REAL FUCKING RICH coming from the lesbian fish game fandom but I digress...) which is just fucking nauseating. You never deserved that shit just for being enthusiastic about something not everyone understands.

So yeah. Sorry for all the negativity, fear, and bullshit. I was a terrible influence on my friends and on the fandom as a whole. I'm not terribly active in the fandom anymore because I lost the hyperfixation but if/when it comes back Papyton shippers will always be welcome to interact with my blog.

#Papyton #mettaton x papyrus #Tagging for visibility

[legendofrhythm]

Hi Tumblr so I was continuing those little sorta-pokemon styled Splatoon humanizations but I can't for the life of me figure out how to make Marina look more like a steel-type trainer so if you see this can you give me suggestions please thank you

#splatoon #marina splatoon #marina ida #off the hook #pokemon #tagging for visibility #please help me I'm bad at clothes designing #however this is the cutest marina I've ever doodled I lov her

[718966914]

Two experimental strips, both of Alex Giannascoli, depicting different tribe storylines.

#sedenu #oc #not wc #tagging for visibility #wc #waca #warrior cats #alex g

[redroyalblues]

in the spirit of rwrb— it’s election day for many states today (quite a few of which tend to go red), so if you are in the us please get out do your civic duty and vote 😀🔪

#tagging for visibility #make acd proud of u #red white and royal blue #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #rwrb movie #firstprince #red white & royal blue

[howtotrainyourdragonweek]

day 5 vote!

same rule as always:

#1 is prompt, #2 will be alternate prompt

*The “Forge” prompt can be seen as both the place, as well as the verb.

#httyd #httydweek2024 #poll #tagging for visibility #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #fishlegs ingerman #snotlout jorgenson #tuffnut thorston #ruffnut thorston #Toothless #how to train your dragon