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#idk how to tag this tbh

awzominator · 5 months

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The Blue Eyed Samurai has been all over my Tik Tok and the visuals are stunning

#the blue eyed samurai #fanart #blue eyed samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #illustration #idk how to tag this tbh #Awzominator art

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completely-real-and-normal-human · 3 months

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hey screen reader users

no ‘see results’ option, non screen-reader-users just reblog

#aubrey says stuff #poll #screen reader #idk how to tag this tbh

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pommunist · 2 months

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ANOTHER STATEMENT - THIS TIME FROM A QSMP TWITTER ADMIN - @/ibobidou on twitter.

« Just know that NO twitter admins is getting paid. And if you think we’re only writing tweets that isn’t true. We do the work of a community manager for free, for people who have zero recognition for our labor.

We have to find memes, know how to do picture and video montage, translate, cover streamers until sometimes crazy hours, collect clips who can sometimes not even be selected, so graphic design, collect fanarts and more.

Sure, we agreed to work for free. But to write tweets, not to work as community managers. We agreed to be volonteers, not salarymen. If we aren’t free for more than a week, they make us understand that it shouldn’t happen again.

What pisses me the most is that QSMP is supposed to be a server based on sharing cultures and dialogue. But we can’t talk between us admins. I wanted to make a MC server just for the admin team, and they made me understand that it wasn’t possible.

We can talk between french speakers but not with the other teams. It’s forbidden to create a group chat. They never communicate with us. You want to know ? The events, we learnt about them at the same time that you did.

It’s impossible to organise. Purgatory ? We knew about it 2 hours before it started, and they had changed ALL the tweets schedules. I recently left because they asked us not to talk about controversies on our PRIVATE accounts, a few hours after Wilbur’s empty excuses.

After all the work we did for you, hours working for you for free, you want us to shut up about the violences, really ? You make me wanna puke. »

They then added this screnshot which i assume was sent to them by the admin teams higher ups about the wilbur situation.

#qsmp #qsmp neg #qsmp crit #IDK HOW TO TAG THIS TBH

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sailorsallyart · 1 year

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Sometimes actor men will say and do things that will singlehandedly destroy my art block

#idk how to tag this tbh #destiel #cockles #jib11 #spn art #spn fanart #supernatural #destiel art #jensen ackles #misha collins

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mothtral · 6 months

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something i love from the phasmo streams, is that in an entirely different game (or universe if you want to see it that way): grian is still leading scar to his death, and scar is still happily following along knowing full well what will happen. it’s like poetry, it rhymes

#grian #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #desert duo #mcyt #hermitcraft #phasmophobia #idk how to tag this tbh #just hitting some bases #mothposts

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auroraeternal · 9 months

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meme.

original screenshot by @mynonsenseistingling (thank you!)

#vtmb #vampire the masquerade bloodlines #meme #idk how to tag this tbh

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owl-bones · 5 months

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someone mentioned strike in a muzzle in my discord and i just had to draw it

#rayne's art #strike!cross #idk how to tag this tbh #how did it get on him #who was brave enough to even try let alone succeed

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lv-art-silly · 11 days

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Y'know what? Fuck you. (/J) *clowns your Peach Peach*

Decided to draw Peach Peach like this because why not

(This is mainly for @the-evil-lovable-simp)

#peach doppelganger #that's not my neighbor #tnmn fanart #Peach Peach #clowncore #my art #PEACH PEACH SUPREMACY 🗣️🗣️ /j #idk how to tag this tbh

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hollowsart · 1 month

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Me if I were a Pokemon: (Soularva) --> (Clidolon)

Soularva: Soul + Larva Clidolon: Clione + Eidolon

Classification: The Ethereal Pokemon Height: 8" || 2'3" Type: Ghost/Fairy

Evolves via learning the move 'Haunting Embrace': The user hugs the foe, binding them and draining them for up to 3 turns. 20% damage is done each turn to the foe, while the user is restored by the same amount.

The damage doubles if used on a foe that is weak to its type, but only on the first turn.

---

Info:

When these Pokemon were first discovered, those who sighted them noted how ethereal they looked floating in the deep dark waters. Their glow soft and otherworldly, it was almost hypnotic. These Pokemon aren't often seen.

Where you see swarms of Soularva, there is at least 1 Clidolon nearby. These Pokemon live deep in the ocean where it is cold and dark, as a result their bodies emit a soft ethereal light and warmth to see each other from afar as well as to communicate at a distance with others of their kind and locate Soularva if lost. The warmth of the light keeps Soularva comfortable and is quite soothing. The light is fueled by the spirits Clidolon have drained from their foes and meals.

Clidolon and Soularva are a docile yet skittish Pokemon species, but will fight back when necessary for survival. Clidolon dons a protrusion on their head which resembles a crown, this protrusion will glow a bright and ominous coral color when defensive. A set of extra horns will grow upon their head, when these horns are grown in they will lengthen all of them before attacking. They will latch on to an enemy and slowly drain their spirit. This is also how they feed.

Soularva are encased in a special shell or pod, this helps to keep them extra secure and safe, although it is still quite fragile. Sometimes a Soularva will be seen with a crack in its casing, a rare survivor of a close encounter.

#my art #phone art #pokemon #fakemon #clione #sea angel #pokesona #pokemon sona #idk how to tag this tbh #//long post #clidolon is based on my sona and soularva are based on my little ghosts I call 'spooks' :> I thought this would be cute #and I was so right. this design goes so hard

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decolonize-the-left · 3 months

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Tumblr socio-political observation time

Identifying with fandoms and movements and brands to validate yourself has led to a society where your interests define you and your character instead of your character defining you and your interests and I think as a whole that's why performative activism is so rampant

(and likewise it's probably why people are so protective of the things that bring them a sense of self and why it's so important those things remain politically neutral and separate from politics but that's another post)

I dont necessarily think it's a Bad as in something that makes you evil but it is bad in that we now have a lot of people doing things in good faith that some are doing in bad faith and all these people are being painted the same because as a whole we arent critically engaging with ideas anymore

As a millennial I know am very much responsible for creating that climate. I think a lot of us grew up thinking that we could shame people into being "good" the same way that we were shamed growing up anytime we had an opinion that differed from our bigoted genx & boomer parents.

It manifested in a lot of ways but one of the prominent examples that most of us will remember is doxxing. Now I want to be clear that I never did this myself but doxxing, call out posts, block lists, etc were everywhere from I wanna say about 2007 to 2017 when I'd say it's status as a common social behavior started to be frowned upon and ineffective.

We were trying to hold people accountable with those actions.

I think that very much backfired. Bigots just got better at hiding and they learned to co-opt our language and mental health terms to gaslight us when we did call them out until those words became meaningless to use. It's simple to not appear bigoted now. Just don't share anything from known bigoted brands or companies and don't follow anyone problematic. Easy.

Cuz those define you and your character, right? Isn't that why y'all still put "supports x" as reasons for your own call-out posts? That's what validates or voids your good person card. At least, thats what everyone made it seem like a decade ago.

The millennial failure was how superficial it all was. We weren't dismantling anything. We were shaming support of x, y, & z as a way of shaming bigots and racist comments and calling them out, but we weren't actually learning to recognize or dismantle racism itself and that's how 10+ years later most of us are watching our kids deal with the same shit we did except now they're also struggling with critical thinking skills inside and outside the classroom.

I think a lot of millennials mixed up righteous anger with doing what's right. Thinking that because we were angry about bigotry and taking it out on bigots that meant we couldn't be bigots. I mean everyone is a little bigoted but not like Bigots™ are bigots, you know?

And then we refused to put ourselves under that microscope or think about that any further. We stopped thinking about a lot of things, I think. We started accepting that we would be told what was okay to believe in or say and I think a LOT of millennials esp white millenials still wait for someone else, especially a Black person to speak on something so they can see the "right" side they're supposed to take.

Someone please learn something from this. This is still very much racist and avoiding the issue is still very much enabling white supremacy.

It will only go away if it's directly addressed.

•••

So I'd like to submit a formal request to bring back one good thing from back then. White responsibility for white supremacy.

Some of us may remember some posts that said if anyone should be responsible for engaging with white supremacists and helping them break down their beliefs it'd be white ppl ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ that its dangerous work for anyone else to do (for obvious reasons) and besides that white supremacists won't listen to anyone else. And allies did.

Bring that back.

The defensive white retaliation to this idea is seen on any mutual aid post in comments like "fuck your emotional labor, I don't owe you anything" or "idgaf if youre black/disabled/gay/whatever I don't owe you shit." So for the people getting ready to type something similar in my notes: This is a white supremacist defense mechanism that reinforces BIPOC isolation through individualism without seeming malicious on the surface. We all owe each other something tho; it's how a community operates and how humanity has survived for so long. Don't fall for this line of thinking and don't bring that nonsense to me.

White supremacy won't go away on its own and white supremacists sure as hell won't go away by letting them fester behind block lists until they're old enough to run for senator so if you can handle this task then respectfully, do it.

"but white supremacists are a waste of time to talk to" yeah for those of us who they'd rather see dead.

The labor and time it takes to make a white supremacist see you as a human who says words worth listening to so that you can then have a good faith conversation about politics is not WORTH the effort and risk to safety for the people who they hate. Especially not if we're doing it and getting death threats 9x out of 10 or they just wanted us to waste our time and exhaust us out of being effective

So if you are not included in the list of people that white supremacists want dead then it is worth your time and in fact is arguably one of the most productive ways to spend your time.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

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a-shoebox-named-meap · 10 months

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happy pride month 2023 :) have some colorful celtic knots

#happy pride 🌈#pride #lgbtqia+#lgbtq #lgbt #idk how to tag this tbh #celtic knots #celtic knot #meap draws #meap posts

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boundinparchment · 7 months

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Dream a Little Dream of Me - XLIX

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Rated Explicit; MDNI. Mind the tags. Chapter also posted on AO3; accessible to registered users only.

Rare were the moments when your hand reached out beneath the sheets and comforters and found not only warmth but the source of it. Sunlight began to bleed through the cracks in the drapes, dawn grazing the mountainside like a forlorn lover. You rolled over and, in the dim light, found dilated crimson eyes already watching you.

You slipped your hand out of the sanctuary of the covers and traced the lines of Zandik’s jaw and neck. He shifted slightly under your touch and, as if on instinct, your feet and legs tangled with his. Half-awake, your breath hitched when you moved even closer, acutely aware of the precarious position of his thigh between yours and how little your nightwear did when your breasts pressed against his chest.

“Usually you’re up by now,” you murmured.

Zandik’s voice was laced with sleep, his chuckle more like a low rumble in his chest as his hand found your hair and played idly with a stray lock.

“I am discovering these moments are not to be taken for granted,” he replied.

“Perfect for observation, you mean.”

He turned his head and pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist as your fingers grazed the hairline of his temple. You felt the twitch of the corner of his mouth and soft breath against your skin.

“Observation implies a lack of practical application. One of which happens to be that, for once, my thoughts are sharper, full of clarity when I’m around you. They were loud before, intrusive; the Segments and Omega muddled everything and for so long, I could not understand how or even if you were meant to find a place with me.”

The revelation was not entirely new. You were already aware of the deep-rooted sentiments and bias he held against the very fabric that kept you two together. Nonetheless, to hear it spoken tugged at your essence and warmth flooded through your chest. Your fingers reached and grazed at teal curls, as if you could hold this moment in your hands, keep it safe.

"This is different for you," you said softly. "Borderline romantic."

"I've been known to be charming from time to time."

You gave a skeptical hum, answered only by the careful graze of lips against yours and an arm ensnaring your waist. Heat flooded through you, running from your cheeks to your stomach, curling lower as your heart skipped. One kiss gave way to another, and then another, a hunger long buried awakening as you brushed your tongue against Zandik’s, deepening the kiss and unwilling to part.

This was so much better than the exploratory fragments of dreams before you saw his eyes. Better than the languid brushes of fingers and mingled breaths, long discussions that made you dizzy and left an ache behind when you woke.

An ache that accompanied a growing eagerness you wished wasn’t accompanied by a pang of shame and mingled with so many other memories impossible to tell apart.

More, more, more. You craved more. You craved him. Agency was yours, all you had to do was—

Leveraging your heel behind Zandik’s calf, you closed the remaining distance, pressing yourself against his thigh. You shuddered at the pressure against the clothed apex of your thighs, your wet heat searing despite the layers between you; his pants were tight and it was impossible to ignore that he too was eager. For a moment Zandik tensed, one of his hands beneath you on your waist as the other splayed across your lower back.

“I have been exceedingly curious about how else we fit together,” he whispered before he kissed you again, sucking slightly on your lower lip. “I have not found accurate accounts that do not devolve into poetic nonsense.”

It was your turn to smirk when you shifted your hips and pressed yourself further against him, friction sending a jolt through your aching core. The hand on your back exerted pressure and you bucked at the sweet jolt that ran through you. His member twitched.

You would be lying if you said you, too, were not intrigued. The mechanics were well-known, understood. But the sensations that arose in his presence, at his touch, were unconventional and akin to nothing describable except a grounding bliss. To experience what laid beyond that, to reclaim it, sang like a siren’s song.

Lips captured yours again, the kiss full of fervor, before they traveled along your jaw and the column of your neck. You gasped and bucked as he found the sensitive spot beneath your ear and in the curve near your shoulder.

“But I am not so eager that I would overlook the notion that patience is well-rewarded. For both of us.”

You swallowed a moan and pushed it to the back of your throat as the hand on your waist ghosted over your stomach and the curve of your breast, stopping to trace a circle around your nipple. His hand hovered, cupping the soft flesh only once before continuing up to dip beneath the neckline of your sleepwear. Your skin tingled as Zandik grazed the other side of your neck and collarbone, the area sensitive, untouched by most. Instinctively, you arched your back as you rolled your hips against his thigh; you were rewarded with the beginnings of a familiar low heat curling, tightening, and a soft cry escaped your lips in recognition.

No, no, you couldn’t...not without…

Reaching between you, your hand searched and found his hardness, his pants tight. You angled your hand to touch him through the fabric, palm against his length, but your muscles twitched with hesitation. Zandik’s hand left your collarbone and covered yours as he guided your hand down his member and back up through his pants.

“I don’t want to...not if you don’t…” you gasped. “Not fair…”

“You and your sense of fairness, rooh 'albi,” Zandik teased. He smirked before he kissed you again. “Not everything is so direct. Try again. Consider this akin to sight-reading.”

You nodded and Zandik let go of your hand. Slowly your fingers danced along his waistband and traced the hard planes of his abdomen. Further up, his chest, just as solid. Neither were incredibly defined but instead were the kind of muscle that came from use, not vanity exercises. In the dreams, when either of you attempted this, you never truly touched one another; you were only left with the vague sensation of being touched, like an echo of a shout in a cavern.

The goal of sight-reading was to feel the notes, get a sense of the rhythm and how one movement flowed into the next. You tried to sense the slight muscle twitch when your touch delved too far to the side or the sharp intake of breath when you grazed Zandik’s tricep, tracing the lines of muscle and earning a soft groan. He fought back a shudder when you went lower, brushing what you could reach of his forearm.

He was quiet as you continued your exploration, save the occasional change in his breathing that told you to try to recreate both the sound and the sensation.

Your fingers found their way across the expanse of his shoulders and upper back, feather-light as they ran up the back of his neck and traced his hairline. He shifted, rolling his head slightly, almost like a cat. Curious, you ran your fingers through his hair and he inhaled stiffly before he gave a soft exhale through his nose, as if working to keep himself quiet. You tried again, fingers seeking and this time keeping a slightly firmer hold as you gently tugged.

Zandik’s lips parted in a breathy gasp as the hand on your back pressed you back against his thigh, your desirous ache returning full force. Your knee, the one tucked between his legs, was precariously pressed against his member, his hips rolling twice in search of friction.

The sun had long since slipped through the seam in the drapes in full-force, bathing the room in a muted sea of golden light. It was well past when either of you usually awoke. Your head snapped towards the bedroom rooms closing the space off from the rest of the suite. Just beyond, you could hear breakfast being arranged by the dedicated staff member who always brought the food straight from the kitchen.

“To be continued another time,” Zandik whispered against your lips.

You untangled yourselves slowly, against either of your wishes, the chill in the room doing nothing for your burning desire. As you attempted to smooth your hair and wrapped yourself in a dressing gown, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have occurred had your morning routine not continued on its usual schedule.

Would your mind have cooperated? Or would your body have reacted on instinct, vision glazing over as you recognized the ceiling, knew the number of tiny motifs carved into the plaster high above? Would you have struggled to breathe as you willed your mind to separate Zandik from Omega from…

Something warm touched you and you flinched, coming to your senses as you recognized Zandik, half-dressed in front of you. Amusement as your still-recovering form barely masked the concern creasing his brow.

“ ...are you truly that dazed, my dear?”

“What if we can never...?”

The words left your lips before you fully formed the thought, the fear gripping you as you gestured to your head. What if you could never give neither of you that experience, that closure, that bliss? If you took the false memories out of the equation, who was to say you would fare any differently?

You tried, once or twice, although never with fellow musicians; it was never successful, never satisfying. Never like the teasing licks of fire that you felt with Zandik.

He stepped closer and tilted his head. His hand fixed the strand of hair tickling your face before resting against your cheek. You hardly ever felt his touch without his gloves and this would be the last time, at least for today.

“Omega pursued what he wanted regardless of boundaries. I have my faults but even I’m not capable of such acts,” he said. “We don’t have to until you’re ready, if you ever are. There are plenty of alternatives and I am never without the means nor drive to find more.”

“Thank you,” you said , the words caught in your throat.

You closed your eyes as a beat passed. Zandik wavered for a moment and then leaned forward to press a parting kiss to your forehead.

“As I said before, patience is something I have in abundance. It is never conducive to be fatalistic.”

Warmth blossomed between the syllables and sat in your chest to replace his lingering touch before the morning chill could snatch it away again.