#if you feel unwelcome you may want to limit your interactions with the fandom

[darkangel1791]

Tumblr fandom can be fun

Tumblr fandom can be only fun

If you feel passionate about something, then you should express yourself

But if fandom just makes you angry, and you don't need the stress, you don't have to deal with stress

Unfollow, block, curate your own experience

You don't have to make anyone happy but yourself

*hugshugshugshugshugs*

[camaro-and-smokes]

If I may give my five cents on this, especially on tumblr's pov... Sorry that this turned into a rant, I put it under cut bc of that.

When I first came into fandom and tumblr in 2015, adding commentary to reblog instead of tags was a norm more or less. Someone put something online and the people reblogging it ran with it.

I absolutely loved it. Also as a gif maker myself btw.

This is why I find it odd and sad that now people get offended when someone adds something to their post on a reblog instead of saying it just in the tags.

It's like taking away the one tool that tumblr was built for.

I personally feel that tags are like whispers. They remain in your blog and only your followers, the one you reblogged it from, the op and ppl who check the notes see them. That's very limited amount of people.

And that's what easily prevents new convos being created around something people truly enjoy. Whispers feel private and referring to them feels unnatural.

In my opinion, that's in the core of what prevents posts being shared more widely nowadays. It's why people don't engage and share posts like they used to.

People don't feel like they belong to a community when there's no discussion. When there are only whispers, there are no conversation openers welcoming anyone to join, thus no sharing in a way that means something.

Another thing I find troublesome in the sense of community and not feeling like you belong, is DMs.

There's nothing wrong in having private convos, but they, too, prevent people joining the conversation as part of community because they're done in private. For some people, like me, opening a discussion in private, directly with someone, is a horrifying thought. As a default I don't feel comfortable with it and I don't want to do it.

I sometimes do manage to push myself over that barrier, when I have an absolute need to tell someone how much I adore their work. But I'm not capable of doing that unless it's so overwhelming that I just can't exist if I don't tell them.

But in general, I'm terrified of sending a DM to anyone I haven't had a convo first in the open, no matter how much they tell me that it's absolutely fine to DM them.

Tumblr used to be the place for a community that everyone was able to join bc of the open discussions happening in reblogs. Everyone could join into the discussion like they would've done on a town square eons ago, following the original conversation starter, the original poster.

It's not like that anymore. And it breaks my heart because I love this platform. I loved the feeling of community this place had. And seeing the several different streams the original post was divided into was amazing. And you could engage with any version of those without feeling that you did something you weren't supposed to.

Now people telling me, especially creators (not all of them obvs), that I'm not allowed to give my praise or starting a convo around the post in a reblog instead of just quietly adding it to tags, makes me just feel unwelcomed and sometimes even unfollow that creator.

As a creative professional and avid fic writer I know how personal original art is. It doesn't matter if its art or gifs or anything else that is done by you and takes time to create. You don't want anyone to touch it.

Yet, once you put it out there and online, it's really and truly out of your control how people perceive it and how people want to interact with it.

It's ok to tell people not to alter your art/gifs/fics or repost it. That's only fair.

But the true question is: is it fair to tell people how they're allowed to interact with it? Is it fair to tell them not to add to it (without destroying the original work which remains unaltered in a reblog) and not to make it part of their experience the way tumblr was built for?

Because these requests keep people away from the thing that communities are built around: open conversation.

This is the end of my rant, but I just want to remind every creator of anything out there of Andy Warhol's words:

Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it's good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they're deciding, make even more art.

Just do more of whatever it is that you do and don't worry if someone adds to it. If they're a d*ck, block them. If they're adding in a positive way, let them.

And do not, for the love of god, make the number of reblogs, likes, retweets, whatever else, a measurement of anything. If they add to it, especially on twatter, and you worry about not getting the additional numbers of whatever from their retweet to your original tweet - you need to reconsider if your priorities are in the right place.

I’m not an OG Harringrove person (I call myself a member of the “second wave” lol I watched ST at the end of 2019 and got into the fandom while Harringrove for Australia was popping off in 2020) but I’ve noticed a reoccurring trend in posts/mentalities.

So many of us question how to be more active in fandom. What can we do differently that will get us more interactions? Really, what can we do to be more appreciated? During my time in this fandom, I’ve gathered good news and bad news:

The good news, is that any negligence we feel, isn’t our fault. We feel like something personal is going on, but really, everyone is just living their lives. So many OG’s are older, married, have kids, and have scary big kid jobs. People’s lack of interaction with us actually has nothing to do with us, and everything to do with them just trying to successfully exist lol

The bad news is that we, for some reason, are convinced that praise is intrusive. That rolling up into someone’s tumblr mailbox is the exact same as unlocking their house and yelling, “HEY. NICE COUCH. GOOD TASTE.”

I’ve been there, and I continue to visit this imposter syndrome place, because I’m a nasty little goblin who needs to be pat on the head as much as anyone else. Now for the deep dive:

Humans are pack creatures with an intrinsic need to create. Easy examples are food, and cliff drawings. It’s not enough to eat a banana right off a tree. We take the risk of putting it to fire and creating a different flavor profile. One of the oldest pieces of human art are some animal outline carvings in the side of some Egyptian cliffs that overlook a stretch of the Nile. Archeologists and anthropologists theorize that these are the first signage we ever made: “Hey heads up, these animals live in this mile-stretch of river. Yes, there’s deer here, but also hippos. Hunt wisely.”

These two traits combine into a neediness that doesn’t know how to be satisfied. Worse, we’re in a broken society that doesn’t celebrate the artist/creative anymore (if it ever really did). And that’s so hypocritical. Artists have kept people alive and happy just as much as the hunter and cook.

We create writing, art, edits, videos, etc and share share share share share….because it’s a stupid little wacky gift of stardust in our brains. This human trait trickles down into us making our silly little fanfics and art projects of rotten characters finding peace, getting plowed after a slow-burn, or just making tea for each other.

The honest truth is that creating isn’t enough. Yes, we do it for ourselves, and we always will. We need to create the same way we need water. The unfair flip side is that we also need our pack to answer us when we ring that bell.

All I can tell you is that life is hard, and more than likely, we see the stuff you’re posting for us. And we’re wildly grateful to you. We’re just trained to think that telling you how special you are, and how grateful we are, will make you disappear.

A star died eons ago and gave us its stardust. It’s unfair that shining is hard but we do see you.

[damienthepious]

hhhhh okay so maybe lkt this week is gonna be a little sad. i hope any of y’all even remember this one, i haven’t touched it in a grip

You Want To Live (When Life Is Achingly Unfair) [Chapter 2]

[Chapter 1] [ao3] [Chapter 3]

Archive Warning: Major Character Death

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Angelo

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Orpheus/Eurydice/Hades, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (though there will NOT be relief until later chapters), Death, (Death but it’s Weird when the afterlife is a place you can just Go), Singing

Summary: Damien’s beloved dies in spring. His flower dies, among flowers. This cruelty is not without beauty.

Chapter Summary: It is natural, for a doctor to have a complicated relationship with Death.

Chapter Notes: This just in: I fucking love Rilla.

~

Lord Arum, he who rules the realm of the dead, greets each of his new charges as they arrive. This is deserved.

All is still, in death. Time is… distant. It brushes by, tickles at the corners, but it does not impede his methodical work. Time is distant, and therefore he never needs worry if he has enough of it to spend on each new soul. He guides. He understands. He helps, when such opportunities present themselves.

His visage is not comforting. It is not meant to be. Death is only ever itself, all complication and incomprehension. His visage is not comforting, but that does not mean that he should not be, himself. Lord Arum greets those who come to rest, and he and his realm ease the difficulty of their transitions, as they are able.

His charges may take as long as each requires, to reconcile their life, to reconcile their death. Arum understands that difficulty. He has seen countless causes, countless cruelties of humanity and godkind alike, seen murder and mistake and malady, seen suffering and seen moments gone so quick they may be missed in a breath. Even a more gentle death can take effort to move on from, if the life left behind is dearly missed, if the person were not ready to leave. Arum guides each as they need, or allows his realm itself to guide, when he knows his own hand, the hand of a god, would be unwelcome, or intrusive.

There is time enough for this, for every patient comfort.

For if time is a river, unceasing and relentless in the realm above, then death is a swamp: wide waiting shallows, subtle eddies, echoes, swirling currents, the air as thick as the loam and water below. Stillness. Calm. Arum rules this still calmness, his still calmness. He rules it, and he loves it, and it loves him in return. Among the gods his station may not be coveted, may not be lauded, but he is useful. He is needed. He performs the tasks that are required, to keep the flow of life as the universe intends, and he excels at his duties.

Some faces, some souls are more familiar when they come to join his subjects at last. Some have brushed close to death many times in their lives, and Arum notes these well. Some come close time and time again, a dance with a partner they do not see. Some never bear the reality of his presence in their lives until the very moment of their last breath.

Some, in the style of his newest subject, he is familiar with in a way that is… painful.

He cannot afford this pain, of course. It does not befit him to care, to mourn in the fashion of mortals, when a soul joins him at a time that seems unfair. Arum attends the transition, but he rules the after, not the moment itself. Death is a calm place. A place of rest and finality. Dying, as it were, is chaotic. Unpredictable. It follows no logic, no reason, no rules save one: that dying is final. Dying is the river that may only be crossed once. Arum rules his shore, and he may disagree with the schedule of certain crossings, but his place is not in that decision.

Arum disagrees with the schedule of this crossing, certainly. He disagrees, but he may do no more than give himself a moment of quiet sorrow before he goes to perform his tasks.

~

Rilla wakes. Rilla will never wake again. The two facts coincide, the two banks of the river each obeying their own rules.

Her parents do not greet her as she rises, and she finally knows with certainty that they still live. Her relief is less than she expected.

Death is less than she expected.

She observes. Herself, first.

She does not breathe. Her heart does not beat. She needs not even blink. She is preserved, one last moment stretching out, a prism through which she can view her life backwards, the last change her body ever bore tattooing her ankle in twin pinpricks. She remembers her end. So very, very simple. Rustle, hiss, strike, fall.

Her parents do not greet her, and Damien still survives (I would follow, o I would follow-), but there is nonetheless someone beside her as she rises to awareness, her toes in the soft silt of the riverbank.

She knows him. She knows him instantly, without thought. Of course she does: Rilla is a healer, after all, and he looms always in the corners of her patient’s rooms. She has been setting her stubbornness against him since she was barely grown.

Death greets her, and his form is ancient and inhuman and wild. Clawed, and fanged, and scaled. Impossible, like something cursed. Or-

Not cursed. Only beyond and outside life as she has known it. He is death. It’s perfectly natural that he seems incomprehensible.

Rilla turns towards him, and he watches her with patient eyes, eyes the precise color of the flowers scattered across the field in which her time among the living ended.

“How… how long have I…” Rilla trails off, her own voice sounding strange and muffled, here, and the Lord of Death shakes his head.

“Time is only an idea, Amaryllis,” he says, his voice all fallen leaves. “We are beyond that, here.”

“That’s not a particularly useful answer,” she responds, and he blinks. She has surprised him. Surprised death, which is gratifying in a strange sort of way.

“I apologize,” he says, still soft. “I have no other answer to give. Time no longer matters to you.”

“But it still matters to-”

Rilla feels an ache, a pull, like the rush of the dying still upon her.

(paint joy even in the pale light of grief / for the flower which blooms in darkness / remains still a flower)

She presses a hand over her unbeating heart, her unbreathing chest. “To Damien,” she finishes quietly. “It matters to him. How long has he been alone? Is he- is he safe?”

“He is not among my subjects.” The deity assures her. “Not yet.”

“How long has he been alone?” Rilla repeats, and the Lord of Death drops his violet eyes from her.

“Any answer I give will leave you unsatisfied, Amaryllis.”

“Why are you here, if you can’t even answer a question as simple as that?”

His tail twitches, his jaw tightening, and Rilla takes some measure of satisfaction in that.

“I apologize,” he says again, further dryness slipping into his tone. “Such a question may seem simple to you; I understand your perspective, but time does not pass here as you know it. For your Damien-”

(the dead are only ever still)

He pauses. Rilla presses her hand over her heart with just barely more pressure.

“Not yet a year, perhaps, as he passes through it. That time is not set, however, Amaryllis. Not from where we stand. This realm merely glances at such measures. It is malleable, how our perspectives interact.”

Not a year, but it must be close enough to that amount for the God to pluck that measure as his metric. So long- so long for Damien to be alone…

“That still doesn’t make any sense,” she says, eventually, because it is true.

The Lord of Death sighs, a withering sound, and Rilla realizes that she cannot observe the space she currently occupies. There is a fog, not something extant, not something she feels she could touch, but this realm is dreamlike and unmemorable besides the God in front of her and the river at her back.

“I will not apologize a third time,” he says. “I will answer any questions you may have, as I am so able. You are now among my subjects, and I serve you as I serve this realm, but there are answers I cannot give. Your irritation with that limitation will not change it.”

Her anger feels like a curl of smoke, hard to grasp, though she certainly makes an attempt. Her hands are cold, but she clenches them into fists at her sides. "Well, Lord of Death, I certainly beg your pardon. Considering how long I've been fighting with you, I'm sure seeing me here is emotionally vexing." She grins precisely like the viper which cut her line, both venom and glee. "I'm not in your way anymore, but now you have to see me."

The Lord of Death tilts his head, staring at her for an immeasurable moment, and then it bursts from him in a laugh, wild with surprise. She is surprised, as well. When this deity laughs, all brightens around her like the flickering of lightning.

"I believe you have misunderstood, Amaryllis. Fighting me? Oh, oh certainly not. Death, Amaryllis- I have stood close beside you often enough, that much is true, but it has never been death whom you have fought. Your bitter rivals are pestilence, violence, plague, and misfortune. You make such forces quake."

"... What?"

"To death you have been a companion. You have been an ally."

"I am not an ally of death."

He pauses, his violet gaze upon her going oddly soft, oddly fond. "You are wrong, Amaryllis. You have only ever remained a friend to death. Graceful death. Kind death. Death at its natural moment." He smiles, and there is an ease to the inhuman curve of it. "Whether you have known it or not, we have been acquainted for some time already."

Rilla contemplates that, and he is patient as she does. “I knew who you were when I saw you,” she murmurs. “You were familiar.”

“You have passed many into my care with compassion, Amaryllis, and kept many, many more from crossing at times that would have been cruel. Your own passing at this time is… regrettable.”

Rilla laughs, a light sort of noise, and it does not echo here. It falls muffled, the strange fog of this place swallowing the sound. The Lord of Death responds, regardless, his lips parting and showing the sharpness of his teeth, his eyes widening and showing the dilating angles of the violet.

“Regrettable,” she echoes, and she is not even bitter about it. “Do gods usually regret?”

“No,” he says, simple and without pause. “No, we do not.”

The quiet of this place, without even the measured beat of her own heart, makes it difficult for Rilla to say how long a pause passes, after that. Rilla does not need to breathe. She inhales, regardless, so she may sigh a steadying breath.

“Yeah, well.” She looks down at her hands, stained green at the fingertips from the herbs she had been picking. “I regret it too, Lord of Death.”

He stares at her, and even in their inhumanity she can see some strange measure of pain in his eyes.

“Come,” he says, his rough voice muffled and soft as he lifts a clawed hand towards her. “Walk with me, Amaryllis.”

“Why?”

His lip curls at her question, and she thinks it might be a smile. “You cannot remain forever with your heels in those waters, Amaryllis. You deserve more peace than that.”

Soft mud between her toes, the pull of running water on her heel like the clear note of a flute.

(weeping of the wilds follow me down, follow me down / follow her down / feed each river and flow into the last)

There are tears in Rilla’s eyes, and she does not quite understand why.

“Not yet,” she says. She needs to close her eyes, then, against the sympathy she can see on his face as he lowers his hand again. “I’m not… I’m not ready, just yet.”

[petitalbert-blog]

Here are my boundaries

A lot of my unspoken boundaries got violated this weekend, and I'd like to set some ground rules for future. Criticism is a two way street. I'm often interested in good faith feedback, questions and alternative perspectives when I post. But on the internet, there is often an assumption that everyone must be open to literally any kind of criticism, from anyone, about anything at all times. I find this social norm frightening and upsetting. When I see people I follow engage in this kind of smackdown culture, or starting/stirring drama, I unfollow them even when I'm not involved or think their other posts are wonderful; I can't handle having it on my dashboard, even directed at other people, because I find it so upsetting. I hate that I cannot opt out of this behavior. I hate that existing online, because I want to talk ideas or get into fandom or learn more about a hobby, means I need to be open to being shouted at and insulted by strangers at any time. This is terrifying. It's terrifying in part because of an abusive friend group a few years back who were like this in real life - people coming at me in this way tends to be triggering in the most literal sense. But frankly, I think it's an ugly social norm anyway. The internet is so rich and cool and filled with opportunities to meet strangers with totally different lives and learn things you never could have otherwise. Having this come to my house is high on the list of the worst things one could do. Good criticism starts with - is this post about what I think it is about? Is this post important enough for a rebuttal, or is it someone having a private vent? How important is it to me really that this person hear what I have to say? It continues in good faith, assuming the best of intentions. It is humble: the author assumes the position of a friend, or even a student, rather than a chastising teacher; a pose of curiosity, rather than one of anger of authority. As internet speech is so often misunderstood, it goes out of its way to communicate friendliness and "I like you, but I have a different perspective". If criticism is taken badly, you apologise, you reclarify your position ("oops, I didn't mean to be hurtful! Let me express it a different way"), or you back off and leave it. Bad criticism is disproportionate. It aims to start a fight. It does not moderate its tone or consider how its words will be received by the other person, or consider how exposing a post to criticism causes tumblr's nasty little snowball of hate. It takes words out of context, and uses other people's posts as an opportunity to showboat. It is not patient or kind. It assumes there is one objective right or wrong position, and does not admit that an issue can be complex with multiple viewpoints or concede that their debate partner can be right in some ways or wrong in others. It doesn't back down on being told that criticism is unwelcome, inaccurate or upsetting - it piles in to criticise the upset too, and tags friends so they can join in. A lot of the problems of the internet stem from it being a semi public, semi private space. Or to put it more clearly: a space which is very public, which nevertheless feels very private. Me, writing semi-journal posts to vent out a few thoughts expecting it to be read by the usual five people who interact with my blog. You, assuming my post is Martin Luther nailing a public declaration to the door, and therefore needs to be immediately ripped down and shamed. Needless to say, in future assume when you read my posts you are taking a peep at my thought processes and exploration, rather than being personally targeted by me standing with a megaphone in a public square. If you're new to my blog, welcome. I already blog a lot about how interacting with online pagan communities can be difficult, and the low self esteem which comes when other people seem to be doing better magic, having bigger spirit encounters, or in this case, reading books you can't afford. I do experience both very low esteem and a sense of peer pressure - and *that is why I write about it*. My thoughts don't come out PR ready. I frequently express feelings which are complex, ugly, unworthy or messy; and I write them in the hope they have some value to others who also feel more depressed than encouraged. In that context, I have both zero fucks - and a lot of confusion - about people who want to come onto my posts and tell me these are bad feelings to be having. To me, getting the difficult things onto paper so I can reflect on them is important. Having strangers turn up to call me names is not a useful part of that process. I love interacting with followers as a way to learn, but there are limits: Be kind: remember that I'm a person, not a collection of bad discourse points which need to be smacked down. Be proportionate: don't bring a big bloody fight to my doorstep because i like different books. Assume good faith: it's easy to misread intentions on the internet, so start with assuming my intentions were good and if I bark, you may start biting in return. Approach as a friend, not a chastising teacher: I really, really dislike religious authority figures and have a huge wellspring of rage for people correcting my religious ideas. You are not an elder, mentor or teacher, you are a stranger who also has some ideas about religion. Be humble: it's not your place to tell me off, or comment on my personality. If you feel the urge to do either, know your place ("person I have never met and who has no stake at all in my life or wellbeing and is not affected by my behavior or choices"), block me and go away. Be kind: i find this internet norm of "you need to be open, at any time, to any kind of criticism - and once criticised, you need to immediately roll over and take it or punishments will escalate" abhorrent and terrifying. It is hostile, it is ugly, and it is the enemy of people exploring ideas with confidence. I always take this kind of criticism very, very badly because it frightens me. These are my boundaries. One of the worst things about the web is one cannot really enforce this except by asking. I can't stop people doing the digital equivalent of breaking into my house in a big mob, where I'm having a quiet cup of tea with my friends and reflecting on stuff that is difficult, shouting at me, making me uncomfortable to be in my house and refusing to leave. But needless to say, if you've read this and you still think it's necessary to pick apart my posts, make personal insults, come into my notes out of the blue, or use my ideas as a springboard to start shit - you are violating my boundaries for how I would like to communicate online, escalating my paranoia about people, making me feel uncomfortable, threatened and distressed. Don't do this - or do it in the knowledge that you are hurting someone. Now go away.

[ask-the-long-distance-gays]

RULES!

-REQUEST RULES-

the mods will be writing nsfw- so for our younger followers please follow responsibly, if something is tagged or warned of nsfw or 18+ we advise you not to continue reading it. we will do our job to warn you, please do your job to be responsible.

no requesting rape/non con- both mods are not comfortable with writing about such things, so please refrain from asking us for it. any asks that do request rape or non con will be ignored and deleted.

please keep a limit to 4 characters per ask- this one should be pretty self explanatory. the reason for this is it saves both mods alot of stress and time.  

please wait 3 whole days before resending your ask- if we somehow do not get to your ask please wait three days to resend it. i think both mods can agree that it can get quite annoying when being spammed the same question.

we do poly relationship requests- so you can satisfy all your poly needs!

ships are allowed!- so you may request any ship you want, just make sure it is within the fandoms we will write about

WE ENCOURAGE GORE- Both mods LOVE writing gore, so don’t be afraid to ask or request it! we will accept it with open arms! although eye gore will not be allowed due to mod rabbits phobia.

NO TERFS OR NAZIS- on this blog we are whole heartedly accepting of your sexuality,gender,race. so we don’t want anybody to feel unsafe or unwelcome. please do not come here with hateful asks about any of that. we are here to have fun not to start a flame war.

-GENERAL RULES-

have fun!- this blog was made because we just wan’t have fun and interact with you all!

THE MOMENT YOU FOLLOW IS THE MOMENT YOU BECOME OUR CHILD- we become your parents and we will love you all very much. you have no choice let us smother you with love.

don’t be afraid to ask us anything!- we do not bite! mod rabbit is a literal marshmallow they physically cannot bite…mod rainbow on the other hand…they might bite.

do not hesitate to send us messages!- again! the moment you follow is the moment you become our child, so if you want you are always welcome to send us a message!

SUBMISSIONS ARE ALSO ENCOURAGED!- be it fan art, memes, or anything you’d like to show us! both mods will look at them and cry rainbow tears as we gush over them for hours!

we can’t wait to hear from you guys! love you all! XOXO