can-of-pringles - Tumblr blog

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I need urgent help! My budgie Jay, is really sick and I need to take him to emergency vets but I need some help with the funds if they want to run tests and things. I've never asked this before but I'm asking please for donations and reblogs.

My paypal is here

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having collaborative ocs with friends will have you saying shit like "what if scimble was bumpus wouldnt that be funny" and then like two weeks later its one of the most important pieces of lore you have

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you came back wrong and i am racked with guilt because i cannot bear to see you like this and i should have let you rest. i loved you so much that i defied death itself but i do not think either of us are happy

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I hate the “open floor plan” that everyone is obsessed with in houses now. I want nooks and crannies and bizarre floor plans. I don’t need to be able to see what someone is doing on the other side of the house. I want places to hide and lurk and dwell in the shadows. I am the beast who awaits in the labyrinth

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everytime someone talks abt misogyny in fandom and how no one can talk about female characters, there's inevitably some person that goes "yeah every single female character to ever exist are all written terribly and thats why no one focuses on them 💔 such a shame 💔" then you go on their account and their favorite character is a male bg character with 3 speaking lines and they've made like 7 AUs so that man can be shipped with himself

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Sometimes I wonder how many trans people are in the fandom and I want to know. Reblog for bigger sample size please.

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Mary?

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I have a personal rule not to open tiktok after I go to bed and I think that's very responsible of me

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Please stop telling people, for any reason, to kill themself. Stop advocating for suicide in any form or capacity.

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I’ve been making gay knights (and dames) collages on my phone at work

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Evelyn Demirci (Ace!Tav) Character Bio

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

Basics

Nickname/Aliases: Evie, Tavern Mouse, Tav

Pronouns: She/Her/They/Them

Age: 26

Race/Subrace: Human (Gur)

Class/Subclass: Bard/College of Lore

Alignment: Neutral Good

STR: 10 DEX: 15 CON: 12 INT: 8 WIS: 13 CHA: 17

Appearance

Skin Tone: Dark Olive

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Black

Hairstyle: Long and braided

Build: A bit slim, acrobatic and flexible

Height: 5’ 6’’

Style: When not in her performance dress, typically she wears some nondescript adventurer garb meant for comfort over style; something that will make it easy for her the blend into a crowd

Weapon(s): Rapier, dagger

Instrument(s): Violin, Lute, Lyre

Personality

General Personality Traits: Personable, Empathetic, Withdrawn

Ideals: People. She is committed to the people she cares about, not to ideals.

Bonds: She is just trying to end the day with a full stomach and a roof over her head, even if it will only last that one night. Anything more permanent feels out of reach.

Flaws: Doesn’t share much about herself, including any negative or uncertain emotions she may be feeling in the moment. It’s easy for her to get lost in relationships.

Secrets: Her sexuality

Regrets: Not pressing her father more about their tribe. Maybe then she would have been able to find them.

Relationships

Best Friend(s): Gale, Karlach, Wyll

Family: Emelie Demirci (mother/deceased), Ryland Demirci (father/unknown)

Lovers: Astarion

Sexuality: Asexual

Backstory

Evie didn’t get the start most would consider ideal.

Her parents were part of a tribe of Gur traveling across Faerun, slaying monsters and earning money where they could, even if certain townships looked down on them. Unfortunately, her father, Ryland had a habit of living up to the stereotypes. If people were going to see them as cut throats and thieves, might as well be a good one. Evie never got the full story, but eventually he crossed the line and was forced to leave the caravan. Her mother soon followed, loving him too much to leave him.

So, Evie was born in the back room of a tavern as it was the only place her father could find that wasn’t a tent in the middle of the woods. It didn’t do her mother much good either way as she died not long after.

Ryland did what he could, at least at the start. Evie would later reflect with vague memories of an Inn, the smell of rosemary and her father tucking her into a straw bed. Those memories wouldn’t last, however, as they were over taken by a blur of different ceilings, tent canvas, the night sky, hard dirt and stone cobbles.

He taught her how to pick pockets and use those big blue eyes of hers to gain sympathy of the local tavern keeper for an extension on their bill. Sometimes he’d leave for days at a time, swearing he’d be back sooner than he ever was. They wouldn’t kick a little girl out on the streets now would they? He just needed to earn some extra coin.

It wasn’t usual for Evie to be put to work then, cleaning and sweeping, a little mouse scurrying here and there searching for crumbs and trying not to get stepped on. Eventually the little tavern mouse was being called Tav rather than her given name; a name she could hardly argue against, especially once her father left one final time, never to return. She was eight years old.

It was long after she was told to find a new place to stay. Her father was behind on payments and the owner didn’t want a Gur pick pocket hanging around his customers. That first night, alone on the street, was just about the worst of her entire life. For some time after those streets would be her home as she did what she could to eat and find a safe place to sleep, day after day as she searched for even a roof to have over her head.

Some merchants and tavern maids took pity on her, letting her stay for a time and earn her keep, but something would inevitably go missing and the finger would be pointed at her. It wouldn’t matter if they found nothing in her pack or in her bed roll or if the item was found a day later, she would be out on the street all over again.

This continued for years until she was about twelve years old working at an inn where a company of bards and actors came to perform. The leader, a tiefling named Lyric, was an extremely talent musician and Evie found herself absolutely entranced. The owner of this particular inn wasn’t especially kind and she knew she’d be accused of something sooner rather than later and so that night she snuck into the players caravan to left.

She was discovered the next morning, but rather than leave her in the middle of nowhere, Lyric took pity on her. So long as she earned her keep and didn’t slow down the caravan, he didn’t see the issue.

He taught her how to play once he discovered she had a talent for music, gifting her a violin. He wasn’t an warm man, but neither was he cruel. He was simply her mentor and just about the only stable force in her life. But like so many things, that would not last either.

When Evie was about seventeen, Lyric and a few other of the players were caught attempting to steal from a rather rich lord in town. He hasn’t told the others of this plan. The only reason Evie and the rest were able to escape was because another one of the group saw the arrest and warned the others to scatter. Evie was left again without a home or even acquaintances to rely on. All she had was a pack with five days worth of rations and a violin. But she would be alright, she’d been alone before. At least now she could make her own way.

Even so, every town she passed through, each new face she met, she found herself looking for something she couldn’t name. The bonds she made always felt temporary, slipping through her fingers the harder she held on. Still, she had to try.

Nothing in her history, however, could prepare her for an illithid ship and the group of weirdos she’s find herself apart of. There are worse ways to get to know people, although she’s having trouble thinking of what.

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it is my hope and dream that everyone on tumblr can go outside and visit a gay bar or go to a queer event and see that our community is very beautiful and very diverse and that half the internet discourse isn’t real

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History of Step

What is Stepping?

What is Step?

Stepping or step dancing is “a percussive dance in which the participant’s body is used to produce complex rhythms and sounds through a mixture of footsteps, spoken word, and hand-claps,” writes the African American Registry.

Step has its origins in Africa, as dancing has been a large part of traditional African culture for centuries.

Calling Step a "bizarre silent dance without music" has to be one of the wilder antiblack racist descriptions I've ever heard of stepping lmao. Anyway if you see the video, it's step!!! They're stepping!! It's a Black American form of dance!!

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saw a stupidass take about my favorite guy but im being sooo brave about it

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I rly hate the Satanic Panic & the moral panic surrounding violence in video games in the 90s, coz it's now impossible to talk about the social implications of violent video games in a realistic sense.

No, violence in video games does not create serial killers in the way most people imagine it would.

However, it's very important to notice how after 9/11, a lot of violent video games pivoted their content from silly gratuitous cartoon gore to more realistic military shooters set in the Levant from a US American lens. It's also important to notice the connection of these games & their toxic online multi-player voice chats to Gamer Gate in 2014.

It's obviously not as black & white as it was presented in the 80s & 90s, I dont think everyone who played early Call of Duty games is a white supremacist who wants to join the military to kill people in the middle east, but I think it's dangerous to pretend like video games or any media can't have an impact on the way people think about violence.

I think what makes all the difference here is how that violence is portrayed, what the message behind it is, what the motives are behind the people who crafted that message, who the victims of that violence are, how they are portrayed & the greater cultural context that surrounds it.

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Wow wtf HIV/AIDS was discovered by Flossie Wong-Staal, an Chinese-American woman, and she’s the reason the HIV test even exists. AND THEN she invented the molecular knife that lead to treatments for HIV/AIDS. And she’s STILL ALIVE. We don’t hear about the contributions of Women of Color enough, my word. Madness.