commandertribble

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Excuse me is your profile photo mikleo from tales of Zestiria the cross? Because I loved the anime

It is! I loved the game first but the anime was a grand time as well lol that icon is very old now since I've been off Tumblr for years and only recently returned but the original artist(who I wish I could remember the name of) had some adorable art lol

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Obsessively in love with this, the giddy smile I wore at work must have made my co-workers think I was a little nutty 🥰🥰🥰

Stay away from his mans!!! I’d put this one maybe two or so years after Arthur’s coronation! This is one of the first requests I got too, so thanks!

I speed ran this one when I got given the idea for it. I have been giggling to myself for so long. So hope y’all like it!

And here’s a little bonus for u

And then the idea by @commandertribble ! Thanks!!

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I needed to say this because I feel like respect has been forgotten.

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I woke up Sunday morning and rolled over to look at Stacy, like I have been doing every morning for so many years and plan to keep doing every morning for the rest of my life. She was reading the news. She’s always reading the news when I wake up. I could tell by the huge red font on her laptop screen that something bad had happened, and when she noticed I was awake, she tilted her computer away from me.

“What happened?” I asked.

She kissed my forehead and said, “Your fever is back.”

“But what happened?” I asked again.

She didn’t answer right away. She rested her cool hand on my hot cheek. And then she told me 20 people had been killed in a shooting at a gay nightclub in Orlando. That’s all she knew, that’s all anyone knew. 20 dead gay and trans people who’d been out dancing, celebrating Pride.

Stacy was right that my fever was back. I’d been fighting a cold for a week and I’d clearly lost the battle. She kissed me again and got up and got dressed and went out for supplies. She knew what I needed without me having to ask. She’s nursed my terrible immune system through plenty of colds and flus and fevers. Lemon-lime Gatorade only. When I woke up again, 50 gay and trans people had been pronounced dead.

Stacy and I spent the majority of our first date at a gay bar in New York City, out until 4:00 a.m. talking about our hopes and dreams and fears and favorite TV. And sports. The Miami Dolphins. Skins, mostly. Naomi and Emily. This new thing called Pretty Little Liars. We’d been shooed away from a press event by the NYPD and we found ourselves in the back of a cab together, hardly knowing each other, feeling like maybe we should find out more, like maybe this was our one chance. So we went a gay bar to sit in a corner and talk quietly, while people decked out in rainbows and glitter danced around us, all night long. Neither of us are loud places people; neither of us like crowds. Something drew us to that bar that night, though. Something about the safety of being with our brothers and sisters, our people, while this fragile, hopeful, unspoken thing buzzed between between us.

The Orlando narrative was always going to take the form of Islamophobia, as soon as it was clear Omar Mateen wasn’t white. It was always going to take the form of hundreds of politicians erasing “LGBT” from the conversation to exploit our pain. Donald Trump was always going to find a way to congratulate himself for it, to double down on his racism and xenophobia, to appeal to fear to fear to fear, always to fear. (The irony of convincing straight white people they’re the ones at risk when nearly all the victims of the hate crime were gay and trans Black and Latino people.) It was always going to be a chance for the NRA to claim they’re the ones under attack.

But we know the truth: The shooting at Pulse happened because religious conservatives all over the world, and especially here in the United States – where this murderer was born and raised – have been scapegoating gay and trans people for decades, twisting the words of their religious texts to claim authority from gods for persecution and oppression. They have denied us our rights to marriage, to fair employment and housing. They have called us pedophiles and deviants, have taken away our children and separated us from our families. They have called for our execution, and recently. You remember Ted Cruz’s pastor who said LGBT people are “pawns of Satan” and lobbied for our death. That was November, six months ago. They have fought to keep our stories off of TV and out of movies, to have our books banned from libraries, and to boycott the businesses that would dare to treat us with respect.

The shooting at Pulse happened because millions of people have been taught to fear this one thing:

A woman in New York City saw her partner wake up on Sunday morning with a fever, and her instinct in that moment was to shield her partner from horrific news. For three minutes, maybe. Or even just thirty seconds. Not to reach for her partner for comfort. Not to pierce the quiet morning with a howl of rage. A woman in New York City saw her partner wake up on Sunday morning and her impulse was love. Love for another woman. Love.

Stacy brought me my favorite popsicles in order of the way I like to eat them: cherry, then grape, then orange. “Try to at least eat three crackers,” she said.

And that’s why 50 people died.

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seriously though take this personality quiz and tell me what you get. it’s important. 

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if a charmander running in circles chasing its tail doesnt fit your blog then you are running the wrong kind of blog

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God Bless America

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set (years??) after mcu civil war maybe where they’re starting to trust each other and work together again. steve has finally come to his senses and accepts that he does have a thing for tonyafter all but tony is like nooo steve bad idea so steve mopes at the gym and bucky finds him and gives him shovel talk because bucky has secretly developed a soft spot for tony

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put your DJ name in the tags

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Kh players in 2005: wow that secret ending with those knights must be a teaser for kh3!!!

Kh players in 2015: I am so tired

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#Markiweek Day 3: Favourite Collab: Resident Enis

I love that Mark gets to use his vocal talents in this video, and it’s hilarious. I always watch this to cheer myself up, when you see Mark laughing in the gag reel it’s impossible not to smile back.

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When you walk into a room you know your crush is in:

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“There are three kinds of people who survive in Monster gulch…”

Resident Enis v Resident Enis: Monster Gulch (2/2) see part 1

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the signs getting read

All are submissions. Credits given to those who weren't anon. 

Aries: “the type to always flash how much they have but say they hate people who show off.”

Taurus: “the type to talk only about themselves for hours on end. Hours.”

Gemini:  the type to say “can you cry somewhere else you’re making all of us uncomfortable” ( @camilasmee )

Cancer: “the type to think everyone is out to get them and that nobody likes them, if they don’t get reassured 24/7.”

Leo: “the type to do something shitty and never apologize for it. Their pride and ego won’t allow it.  ”

Virgo:  “the type that can’t help but correct you for EVERYTHING you say or do wrong. ALWAYS.”

Libra:  “the type to act like they know what’s best for you and tell you how to live your life when in reality they have nothing under control in their lives.”

Scorpio: “the type to be like “i got rejected once so now i can never trust another human being ever again”

Sagittarius: “the type to tell you their rude and irrelevant opinion when you didn’t ask.”

Capricorn:  “the type to pretend they have no feelings, but then you lightly roast them and they won’t text you back or talk to you for a whole  day.”(realityispainful)

Aquarius: “the type to push everyone away then get hurt they have no one.”

Pisces:” the type that forgets about everything they have done, BUT they have the ability to remember how much of a shitty person you were for making them cry that time about fifteen years ago. Nice.”

[ PSA: If this doesn’t sound like you, Congrats, it doesn’t apply to you! Move along and please refrain from leaving an essay about how “this isn’t you” or “how astrology is bullshit”. Trust me that no one has time time or cares enough to read it. Save yourself that energy and time! It’s never that serious. ]

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is having a ginormous fat peen a deal breaker for you? yano cuz u short

Anonymous looked up at the sky, not trusting the colour smeared upon the horizon. Horizons could be misleading, they knew. Horizons could convince you it was still daylight, even when the whole of the sky arced above you in a sprawl of midnight. Looking forward was not always enough. Sometimes, you had to look up. 

Directly above Anonymous, the moon cut its teeth into the clouds, drawing blood and bruising the darkness with its waxen light, waning at the edges. It was time. 

They did not have long. The witch had told them, as she reluctantly handed them the bag of herbs, that the spell would only be useful for the minute or so that the moon was at its highest. The minute was upon them. 

Fifty five seconds left. 

Cursing themself for having lost track of time, Anonymous reached into their trouser pocket and pulled out the little drawstring bag. With hands shaking in anticipation, they emptied the contents into the small well they’d dug into the earth all those hours ago, and covered it back over with dirt. Fingers crossed behind their back, they stepped away and waited.

It did not happen immediately. Magic takes time, the witch had said. Magic does not come to you when you ask for it; it comes to you when it’s good and ready. You can cast all the spells you like, scatter all the herbs and make all the offerings, but magic cannot be summoned - only tempted. 

The seconds ticked by, and Anonymous waited.

This had been a long time coming, they reflected. They had waited too long for the taste of power on their lips. They had been too long distant from how it felt to be in control. They had learnt too early their place in the world, and they had too soon come to rue it. The chasm between want and have had grown inexorably bigger since the day they were born, and now they were here. 

The mound of earth did not move. Anonymous thought about the time they had first felt insignificant - the first time they had realised that they stood small in the face of all things - and counted the seconds. 

With ten seconds left before the spell died, the magic came. 

Magic has no face, has no body. It takes no form and it holds no weight. The witch had told Anonymous this herself. Magic simply is; it is because no other word will do, but it is not. It cannot be, and has never been, and yet it is. 

When Anonymous thought about it, it was all rather complicated.

Best, then, not to think at all. Best to give voice to thought and make it speech. 

Anonymous cleared their throat and began. 

“I suppose you’re wondering why I summoned you here - ” 

I was not summoned. 

They flushed, the soundless sound surprising them even though they had been expecting it. Do not fear the voiceless voice, the witch had warned. It speaks, and is silent. The words are only half your own. 

Breathing slowly, they tried again. 

“No, of course not. Sorry. I’m not - I haven’t used magic before.” 

And you still have not. I am not here to be used. Say what you would have, and I will do the same. This is not a service. This is a trade.

“Right. Yes. Sorry.” They inhaled, exhaled. This was the only chance they would have to resolve the conflict that had been the shape of all their life. This was the resolution of aporia; of feeling as though they deserved everything, yet having nothing. Of knowing that they should be free, but being everywhere in chains. Of wanting, and of not having. “I want to feel powerful.” 

In what sense? Power is not all-encompassing. The queen ant is powerful to the workers, but weak to the heel of the boot. What power would you hold? Do you seek to command nations, or to master the arts, or to take another as your own? 

Anonymous considered how best to formulate their response before replying. Precision was key here. The witch had made it clear that magic would grant you what you asked, whether or not it was exactly what you wanted. 

“I’m tired of being silent,” they said eventually. “I’m tired of being unable to say whatever I want. I’m sick to the teeth of thinking all these thoughts - great thoughts, too; thoughts that could topple cities and part seas - and being forced to keep them to myself, all because other people think that their own feelings are more important. Well, what of my feelings? What of feeling inadequate? What of the weight of being told to keep silent? Do they know what that does to a person?”

As they spoke, they could feel their heartbeat rise, pumping and roaring in their ears, in their veins. “Sorry,” they added. “I’m getting carried away. But to answer your question - I want to have the power to speak my mind.”

In all things?

They contemplated it. “Yes. In all things.”

The silence was real for a few moments before it became illusion.

I can help you.

“And will you?” 

Yes. It will require exchange, however.

At these words, Anonymous could hardly contain their excitement. “Anything. I’ll give you anything.” They took their purse out from their other pocket, and held it out towards the mound. “I have money. I have a house, too, but that’s back in town. You mightn’t like it there. My neighbours - ”

I would have your face.

Anonymous faltered. “My what?”

Your face. That is my offer. I will give you unlimited and unprecedented power to speak your mind. All thoughts you have will be given voice, and you will never again be forced to turn away from speaking aloud what you have always been taught to keep silent. In return for this extraordinary power, I would take from you your face, and in so doing I would give myself form and body. You would never again be silent; I would never again be invisible. 

“But wouldn’t I suffer without a face? How would anyone know that it was me who was speaking?” Anonymous asked, wringing their hands around their purse. 

I have named my payment. Now I would name my price. The price of this power is thus: the knowledge that all thoughts you give voice to will be dampened by your lack of face. That everything you ever say to another will be tempered by your lack of identity. That no-one will again know whose thoughts you speak; only that you do speak, and in all things. 

There was nothing for it. They would have to decline. They could not accept these terms. What power came at such a price, after all? What king had ever ruled his country with no name or face? What lover had ever made another theirs with no identity? 

All the times they had been asked to hold their tongue; all the times they had been scolded for speaking their mind; all the times they had uttered the wrong words at the wrong time and had suffered for it: all this had been for nothing. 

Although, Anonymous admitted to themself, the thought did appeal on one front, and one front alone. It was undeniable that a certain freedom was gained by completely giving up one’s identity. After all, who could be held accountable for a deed when the deed was done by one with neither name nor face? Who would they scold when the words that were given were not the words that were wanted? Who would suffer when the things said were not things that people wanted to hear?

Only those who heard them, of course, and not the one who spoke them. 

And immediately, ashamedly, wonderfully, the decision was already made, had perhaps been made years ago. 

“It’s a deal.” 

You agree to the payment and price?

“I do. Take my face, and give me the power I seek.”

The deal is struck.

And then the moon, which had begun to falter at its peak, was suddenly once more at its highest. The minutes had been returned. 

Hand trembling, Anonymous reached up to touch their face, only to find that, of course, there was no face. Where their image had been - the folds of their mouth, the curve of their nose - was now smooth and featureless. There was nothing there at all.

“Are you happy?” came a voice from behind them. 

Anonymous whirled around, and came face to face with their own face, worn by another. “Who are you?” they asked, and a thrill chased up their spine at the realisation that there was no fear behind these words at all. Their voice did not falter. The question was biting, crystalline.

“I am Magic,” replied the impostor, “given form by our deal. Is it to your satisfaction?” It cocked its head inquisitively, Anonymous’ old eyes seeking validation in their new setting, and Anonymous felt powerful. They were looking at their old self - their weaker, voiceless self - and they were free.

Anonymous drew a deep breath in before responding. “is having a ginormous fat peen a deal breaker for you?” they asked.

Magic blinked. “I don’t understand.” 

“yano,” continued Anonymous, “cuz u short.”

“Why are you saying that?” asked Magic, eyes darting left to right in placid uncertainty. “I don’t understand. I gave you what you wanted. You could say anything you wanted, and no-one would ever hold you accountable. You could take a lover with intricately crafted sonnets, bend ears with your scintillating rhetoric, and yet you choose - ”

“is having a ginormous fat peen a deal breaker for you? yano cuz u short,” interjected Anonymous, feeling giddy and drunk with power.

Magic blinked again. “You have the choice of a thousand languages, billions of words - ”

“is having a ginormous fat peen - ”

“Sometimes,” Magic interrupted, “silence is the more powerful weapon after all. I could undo what I have done, but I think it best not to bother. Some people will never learn. I wish you luck with all things, and may you one day find your power useful, for it will not aid you in the pursuit you have chosen.”

With that, Magic was gone, and Anonymous’ face was lost to them forever. Now alone, Anonymous looked gleefully at the small mound of earth that had been their salvation. They thought of all the things they would say tomorrow, and they smiled.

At least, they would have smiled, had they been able.

Far away, Magic rolled its new eyes, and decided to write a sonnet. 

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Reasons Humans are the cutest animals:

1. They know that automatic doors open by themselves, ut when they walk towards them they slow down just in case. Sometimes they hold out their hands and pretend it’s magic.

2. They adopt smaller animals and live with them in their homes, sometimes imitating noises and sounds in attempts to communicate.

3. When they see something funny on TV, they immediately repeat it, sometimes to other people who were already in the room watching to begin with.

4. When they like being around someone very much, some humans will take clothing items from the person to have their smell around when they’re gone.

5. Many humans will take their favorite foods away from their regular feeding areas and hold off on eating them until they are sufficiently comfortable and entertained, to maximize on the experience.

6. Sometimes, a human will associate a particular song with an individual or event, and the song will invoke deep emotional reactions.

7. While many humans prefer to sleep alone, a large number of them sleep better when in close contact with another human who they trust and enjoy the company of.

8. When a human is particularly engaged by an enjoyable task or hobby, sometimes they simply forget that their bodies require basic care to survive.

9. Sometimes the urge for them to sneeze suddenly disappears, and they become frustrated with their automatic immune responses

10. Some humans talk in their sleep, or make funny noises or breathing patterns.

11. When a human likes another human, they begin to imitate vocal patterns and mannerisms.

12. Humans come in a wide range of shapes and colors, and many humans will decorate themselves with flashy dyes or fabrics.

13. They will collect random objects with no set objectives in mind- they will gather items such as paper squares, lengths of fabric, puzzle games, and pleasantly-shaped rocks, which they will excitedly show off to other humans.

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my future car