#interact with me y’all!

[peocokruu]

The whatever-melon fruit that Kagome got from her world was damm good! All of sudden he couldn’t shake off the feeling of gratitude building on his chest, and to both of their surprises he said with not too many thought -

“Kagome… thank you for all you do”

[tariah23]

oooooo white people in my replies really saying ‘I can excuse racism but I draw the line at homophobia’

Not surprised since this is the site that only talks about racism and thinks it’s a big deal when they see it demonstrated in the cartoons and comics they like *coughs* dungeonmeshi *coughs* (for example at least. I haven’t seen THIS many white ppl talk as in depth about racism on here as much as these fandom nerds, man. I stg. Like “Ohhhh, so you all DO acknowledge that racism is real? Just not in real life even if you could feel it slapping you in the face at high speed. Gotcha.” It’s crazy.

Tumblr is like, 90% white and is extremely centered around them. That’s why you barely see stuff that’s important to black and brown people ever trending here or being talked about. It has to be something incredibly huge to the point where even white people can’t ignore it like they usually do, to talk about it here.

They only talked about George Floyd here because the topic of his death became world news. Even people in other countries were talking about it. Before him, it was probably Ferguson and Trayvon Martin… most of them are still trying their best to ignore the genocides because it’s a “touchy subject.” What do you expect from white people who live in their own bubbles of comfort and refuse to pop it with a needle??? They find comfort in their privilege and faux ignorance (they love playing stupid to avoid conversations about important things outside of fandoms like, are these mfs born with half a brain dedicated to fandom or what.) That’s literally all these mfs make a big deal out of, especially on this annoying ass platform. The ao3 mfs will go to war for the site that allows racist ff and cp like it’s no big deal. I wonder how many people here even donated to the site while actively scrolling past dono posts from folks who really do need help. They act like they’re doing a civil service by defending this site that makes over the amount of it’s intended dono goal in minutes.

Then you already know as soon as you even bring up racism in the stuff they like, they start ganging up and harassing black bloggers especially, calling them TERFs and the whole nine. Anything to make that person look bad for being concerned about the racism that they have such an intense aversion to. God, it’s absolutely exhausting knowing that these people would have no problem choosing a cartoon character over your entire existence if they COULD. Isn’t that fucking sad, man?

[babyaiker]

Assortment of Kieran doodles I did over the past few months,,, (that’s why each doodle is slightly different in how I draw him)

Don’t get me wrong I love all the characters in rdr2, but I’ve gotten way to personally attached to that god damn o’driscoll boy

[gatoburr0]

This might be a bit of a dark question about the fuzzy AU but.. was Acht alone when they died? I'm assuming timeline wise that side order didn't happen pre Grizz winning (unless it did) so did they spend their last few days(?) alone in the Deepsea Metro with no idea what was happening to them or did something less heart wrenching happen?

Man that is a massive plot hole I completely forgot about and did not see coming. Honestly I think I can make it so somehow Acht already met Callie before getting fuzzed up? Because if not it wouldn’t be so interesting (and most importantly there wouldn’t be enough angsssssst).

Also yeah this post is a bit sad so just sayin’.

Acht and Callie already knew each other and went out together constantly, but they got fuzzed up when they were far from each other. Acht couldn’t get out of wherever they were in, because they were just so weak, until it was too much to handle and they died, alone, nobody knew they were struggling with it.

Callie often gets flashbacks about the time they spent together, however her memory gets blurred by her instincts and she doesn’t seem to be affected by them that much anymore. But she does remember them vividly, being probably their first true love.

She sometimes stays up at night thinking about them.

And the saddest part is that she still thinks they’re doing okay somewhere around.

(Read tags)

[saturngalore]

the universe of saturngalore 🪐🌈

[ivys-head-is-spinning]

good people of tumblr I have a question. out of disney’s sensational six (which is the like main Mickey and friends characters) who’s your favourite???

let me know in the tags who you picked and I’d love to hear why :D

[peachdues]

tw: grief; some personal writing based on a rec by my therapist as I draw closer to the three year anniversary of my mom dying.

My hands are not my own; they are inherited, like the rest of me, but unlike my hair (the shade of my grandmother’s) or the hue of my eyes (a heterochromatic blend of my father’s and his father’s), my hands are wholly my mother’s.

It is a strange comfort to look down and see a part of a missing loved one. I can stand in front of a mirror for hours scrutinizing my own face and find no trace of my mother, but when I look at my hands, I am unable to see anything but her.

I was a precocious child, unable to sit still even for a moment. My restlessness persisted even at night. I was often unable to find tranquility even in sleep; prone to vivid and wild dreams that frightened me and usually startled me awake. My mother’s bedside was a frequent place of solace in the small hours after midnight. After the third or fourth time of me darting into my parents’ room on tiptoes and speaking in hushed whispers of monsters lurking in my closet, she would let me crawl in beside her until I calmed down enough to return to my own bed.

Yet, like most unruly children, rarely did her acquiescence actually soothe me. I likely owe my mother a long overdue apology for all the ways I tossed and turned and kicked while trying to settle down. But for all the sleep deprivation I inflicted, my mother’s solution was not to kick me out before I’d mellowed; instead, she gave me her hand.

She would hold it out for me to take and I, a cat transfixed by a feathery toy tangling before it, would grab it and trace the shape of her fingers. I bent them, pushed them together until she made the Vulcan salute, and turned her hand over in mine again and again. On and on I would play with her hand until I finally grew sleepy — an event she seemed to have a sixth sense for, given the struggle it took to get me there — and she would send me on my way back to my room, comforted.

Even beyond those restless nights, my mom would offer me her hand to hold in times of stress or even relaxation. If I sat beside her on the couch, my head on her shoulder, she instinctively held out her hand and without fail, I would take it. I once asked her if she minded it when I was a teenager; motherhood is marked by all the ways children demand and take, and I worried she quietly resented my entitlement to her space. I could see my question surprised her — and then she was quick to kiss the top of my head and assure me she found it just as comforting as I did. In fact, she wagered, the day I stopped reaching for her hand might just break her heart.

But I never stopped. I continued studying my mother’s hands in those quiet moments watching some silly reality show. I was fascinated by them; the rounded shape of the nail on her index finger contrasted with the u-curve of the others, but that asymmetry was the most comforting thing in the world.

They were there when I stumbled off my late night flight home from college; when I could stop being the invincible twenty year old staring down a world of limitless opportunity and regress back into her baby girl, who just wanted to cuddle up to her on the couch and have her pat my head as she always did.

And they were there even when she was not; still stroking over my hair thanks to my own manipulations, her nails painted a faint copper that I’d brought along with me to the ICU, back when we still had hope she’d be leaving sometime soon. I kept her hand smoothing over my head until the quiet beeping of her heart monitor slowed and her chest rose one final time. I only let them go when the nurses told me to bring my car around to pick up my dad so we could drive home, without her.

The last time I paid attention to her hands was when I arrived at the funeral home to help fix her makeup before her service. I did not recognize them, mottled and bruised as they were; they were too stiff, her fingers too oddly curled over her lifeless form. Of all the bitter realizations I had in the wake of my mother’s death, perhaps the most acerbic one of all was that I would never again hold my mother’s hand.

Even when I said my final goodbye to her on the day of her funeral, I did not touch her hands. I didn’t even look at them.

One of the many lessons I’ve been taught in navigating life after death is the transiency of human memory. There are details about my mother I swore I could never forget that I now find difficult to recall, even a measly three years later. I have a hard time remembering the sound of her voice, or the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. I find that I can’t decide whether her eyes were more of a chocolate-y brown or something closer to black.

But I have not yet forgotten her hands. How can I, when I see them every day?

The nails on my index fingers are round while the rest are u-shaped. The skin of my knuckles folds the same way hers did, and while I prefer acrylics compared to her choice of gel manicure, I know that when the false nails come off, my mother’s will be there.

Often, far too often for my own comfort, I catch myself wondering what they will look like ten, fifteen, even twenty years from now. I wonder whether the time will come when I look down and think, for the smallest fragment of a second, that I am seeing her again. But a more sobering part of me knows there’s a chance my hands will one day curl and swell with age in a way hers never did. And I wonder, if and when that day comes, whether I’ll still recognize my mother’s hands, or whether that memory too, will fade.

[bohemian-nights]

Unpopular Opinion: Every time a black female character (especially if this black female character is dark skinned) enters into a relationship with the popular fan-favorite white male character usually one of three things happen a. the black female character is now headcanoned as a lesbian (never bisexual or queer or anything that would leave the character with the possibility of still entering into a relationship with a man) b. white male character is now shipped with other popular fan-favorite white male character/other white female character (the popular fan-favorite white male character is usually headcanoned to be bisexual and when he is, shipped with a woman that woman is always white) or c. black female character (and sometimes their actresses) is now being talked about as if they are the devil himself.

Wanting characters to explore their sexuality is fine but I always find it odd how this always happens when one member of the relationship is a black/blackish woman. *forgot to mention the suddenly polyamorous relationship the three (black female, white male and white male/woman) characters are now without a doubt in*

Anon you spoke nothing, but facts right here 🙌🏽

(The only thing I’d add is that they don’t just do this when the woman in question is with a white man, see Namor and Shuri and the backlash some shippers got for shipping them).

You aren’t the only one who has been noticing this trend.

I say trend loosely because really just a new stereotype to add to the bunch😒

It would be one thing if it was a want for actual representation, but every time now like clockwork. as soon as they see a Black woman who looks like she’s going to have a romantic arc with said popular fandom man, boom she must be gay😑

Hell, it’s getting so bad that these shows/movies are automatically just writing their Black women characters in that way.

If people can’t see how this can be harmful/dangerous, that’s cool, but anytime you want to paint all of a group a certain way and won’t show them in any other setting, that’s how you end up birthing new stereotypes.

This isn’t creating diversity. It’s limiting it(once again).

It’s so all or nothing with our media representation. Black women don’t want to be shown as one thing(which seems to go right over most people’s heads).

We just want the same opportunities as everybody else and not to be put into one or two narrow boxes of acceptable characterization that doesn’t threaten the status quo(aka you can't have Black women looking desirable especially not when there is an available white woman right there next to her).

[linkles-art-blog]

Hey out there, FNAF fandom! I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for months now, but I wanted to finally introduce ya’ll to my designs for the Afton family (based heavily in many of the FNAF official arts, but with a few unique twists, and in my own style, plus my OC on the second from the right, whom I’ll talk about another time.)

I also made a version without my OC, for ya’ll canon-only Afton family lovers:

I really wanted Michael to have a sort of “I really don’t wanna be here, I don’t feel like I fit in, but I also don’t have a choice” look on his face…

I could talk a lot more about this painting, but I’ll probably get into it later, instead. lol

Anyway! Hope y’all enjoy. 💕 I have a fair number more FNAF arts to show y’all, but we’ll get to them in time!

Do not repost this artwork anywhere without my explicit permission or claim it as your own. See F.A.Q.s for details.

Songs I listened to while drawing this:

I honestly don’t remember, but probably a lot of stuff from my FNAF songs playlist and also listening to/watching this incredible FNAF lore video for the umpteenth time. 🥺💕

[therossgarden]

Me reblogging, liking, commenting, posting and following everything Steve/Bucky/Stucky related like a maniac because I love Stucky to death and I also love having moots I can freak out over the dumbest takes with because it brings me so much joy and comfort that it hurts

[animalsandskyyy]

so like what does it mean when the girl you’ve been talking to met up with her ex boyfriend last night and didn’t interact with you after that until almost noon the next day and just said “i’m so sorry I got all busy” when she’s just been at home but like still valid, but when you ask how the night went she hasn’t responded even tho she read the message 3 hours ago?

asking for a friend😭

[knicknuckle]

Are you in your 20s? Do you like hxh??

omg hiii can we be mutuals 🥺🫶

[feralpigeons]

*through gritted teeth* I will not let myself exist in an echo chamber

[sharkflan]

i reached another follows “milestone” and like, i know a lot of people who used to follow me are inactive and bots are a problem as well, but i just want to let y’all know how much i appreciate the people who do follow me. i see you and i see the likes and comments and it means the world to me 🥹❤️

i’ve been on tumblr since i was 16 and i’m nearly 30 now. you guys rock and i love you 🫶💕

[leahthedreamer]

You’ll have figure skating fans complain that there should be more opportunities for persons to gain Olympic medals and then at the same time claim that team medals aren’t “real olympic medalists” you people are exhausting actually

[ask-modern-patrochilles]

out of context where are you? :(

[ Hi! 👋🏼 I didn’t plan on taking another break but it sort of just happened for multiple reasons. I’ll be putting it under the read more tab because boy it’s a Lot ]

[ First off, there’s been a lot of hate going on in the fandom tags, and while I usually just block and go about my day, it’s really exhausting to see so many people hatefully criticizing something you love especially the way you interpret these characters (how they look, how they dress, body type, etc.). It’s made me feel very unwelcome in this space because I’ve seen so many people complaining about how they can’t stand ‘certain interpretations’ of these characters which is almost exactly how I draw and write about them. Every time I go to draw them, I just feel bad and it sucks so much because I still love them!

Second, the racism and elitism which I think speaks for itself. As a person of color (I am Puerto Rican), seeing racism consistently happening in classic fandom spaces is exhausting. My version of Patroclus is Black (with a mixed background), and it’s infuriating and so discouraging and disgusting to see so many people say that Greek mythology characters can’t be Black, despite the historical evidence that says otherwise. The rampant racism, and people making excuses for it, has been very hurtful and discouraging me from creating as well.

Lastly, and less related, I’ve been having a lot going on irl, my cat’s been hospitalized for a week and in process of recovering so I haven’t really had the time to draw these past two weeks even if I felt I up to it.

I’ll probably be back soon, I do have some big plans for this blog! And like I said, I still love tsoa, I love these characters and I’m still writing my fics over on ao3. However, I can’t lie, I’ve been feeling very discouraged from engaging in fandom because of the reasons above. It’s exhausting to see these things, and to post something you worked hard on only to see people being racist and hateful towards it in the end.

But I want to be very clear, there are still so many nice people in this fandom and I am very grateful to those who support my work and are very sweet with their comments in general.

So I hope this little break helps me get that passion for creating back, until then thanks for sticking around! I hope to update again very soon! In the mean time, you are more than welcome to send asks, I might answer a few with text responses if that’s okay with you guys 😊❤️ ]