This Is Sad - Tumblr Posts
The fact this has to be said is sad :(
It should be a common know fact! Especially with the adults one and the minor one!
See something you don't like? BLOCK AND MOVE ON!!!
This is in every fandom not just sams :( and it's sad
Hey TSAMS Community
It's really fucking weird to stalk people's accounts to try to see if they make content that doesn't fit your fictional morals and even weirder to put people on blast for making content you don't like. I've literally seen friends get "called out" on Twitter for making content in this community and now this?
And you can interpret "this" any way you want, I'm not going to specify on what exactly I'm talking about and it's very likely that whatever comes to mind isn't what I'm talking about. In fact, this is purposefully vague to make you do a self-check and a fandom check about your morals and how you're acting in this community. So lets cover all the bases of what this could possibly be about.
Making block lists and publicly reaching out to popular creators with them makes you look stupid. If you have an issue with someone or a concern about someone reach out in private. Messages exist for a reason, not everything needs to be public, and fandom drama is exhausting. You're more likely to get blocked by popular creators if you do that.
MINORS STAY OUT OF NSFW SPACES HOLY FUCK! Do not send hate or "call out" nsfw creators for making, gasp, nsfw content. Do you know how fucking stupid you look?!
Adults restrain yourselves when you see a minor voice an opinion you don't agree with. They are children, and them having a view that you disagree with is not the end of the world, they are still learning. It's our job to be positive role models in fandom, and some of you are really fucking disappointing me.
Do not send harassment to people for coping with their trauma in a healthy way just because you don't agree with it or understand it. This is going to blow some puritan minds, but someone who has dealt with trauma can find it to be healing to make content to help them process that trauma. They are allowed to have their safe spaces with other people who make content about horrible things that happened to them. All you do when you harass them is tell them that they need to be put down like a fucking dog for living through horrible things. That they are "impure, unclean, and not fit for society". Do not rob people of their safe spaces just because you don't like the type of content they make.
Dark fiction is valid fiction and if you don't like that don't read it.
There is a difference between romanticizing/fetishizing horrible things and writing dark content in a respectful way to victims. It's generally expected that when you make dark content you will acknowledge, either in the narrative or out of it, that it is a fucked up situation and toxic/traumatic/horrible/whatever descriptor you want to use. Refusal to acknowledge this or pretending that it is a normal situation and would be acceptable irl puts a huge red flag on you.
Tag your content properly especially if it contains topics that may make people squeamish. This also helps people who want to see the content able to see the content.
You are allowed to specify if something is supposed to be a ship or not in your posts and no one is allowed to be mad about it.
BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK CONTENT YOU DONT LIKE! It is not a personal attack to block people and not a personal attack to be blocked.
No one likes someone who hates other people for existing.
you don't have to always be the strongest
When you realize Lucifer still wears his wedding ring on the left ring finger.
He didn’t even put it on the right hand, which is traditional for divorce or deceased spouses…
💔
why am i arguing with a plastic skeleton about objectum
i really have lost it haven't i
I love hazbin hotel, it’s good, the fandom’s a bit crazy though and that’s what I want to talk about. Alastor. He’s confirmed asexual, we know this, he used to be confirmed aroace but I believe they changed it. Now my problem is the fact that people have been sexualizing him and drawing him in sexual situations and making everyone on the aroace spectrum feel uncomfortable and erased. When people say “Just because he’s asexual doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to have sex” you would be right because it’s IS a spectrum but that does not mean you should assume that he does. You’re sick for ignoring someone’s sexuality to be able to draw him having sex with vox or Lucifer. Why is sex SO important to all of you? It kinda scares me because if you’re willing to ignore a fictional character’s preferences what are you willing to do to a real person? I’m not trying to make anyone mad I just genuinely am a little nervous, I encountered someone in the fandom who quite literally said to me “I’LL SEXUALIZE WHOEVER I WANT LEAVE ME ALONE” do you know how scary that is to hear that people think that way?
Happy Birthday!!!Ace!!!!
遅ればせながら。
This really breaks my heart because the list shouldn’t be long scratch that—NONE of these people should even be on this list!! They should be out living their lives and spending time with their families. But they can’t because some other human being decided that their lives weren’t WORTHY, that they were INFERIOR. But my question is WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? You think just because you wear a uniform that you have all this power that you can exert over defenseless, unharmed black individuals. When you got that fucking uniform you promised to protect and serve but me and my people are not feeling protected, were getting murdered in cold blood by the people who swore to protect us. But when we demand justice and equality the right way in a peaceful manner— y’all turn your backs to us like we don’t matter. Y’all just sweep us under the rug like dust. But when we’ve had enough and start being about that action then y’all wanna call us crazy and angry. Well you got that right because WE ARE FUCKING ANGRY AND FUCKING TIRED OF DEFENDING OURSELVES AGAINST PEOPLE WHO JUST DONT GIVE A FUCK. The rulings are all the same besides a few and justice is still not happening. I shouldn’t have to grow up in a world afraid for myself and my family to go outside because of the color of my skin. Or about when I have children how can I protect them from the cruelty of the outside world and wonder if they leave house will the come back? This is really fucking sad🥺😭 but at the end of the day we’re just gonna take it one day at a time and one signature at a time because we need all the help to demand justice for the families that were promised but got nothing in return. 🖤✊🏼🖤✊🏽🖤✊🏾🖤✊🏿. Down below are petitions you can sign.
https://t.co/0vEdzDqqMO
https://t.co/eHlYwGYyHv
https://t.co/mR7JoLQ4zH
https://t.co/F01HxPCAgS
https://t.co/pBUSHtHrTi
https://t.co/CwfA0J2343
https://t.co/zoFbBBEvFO
https://t.co/O1ruhqOMwL
https://t.co/yl9gInYFA3
https://t.co/MkiXxMaBZz
The names of those killed by racism and police brutality are written along Chicago Avenue in Minneapolis, where #GeorgeFloyd was suffocated by police.
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/2020/06/to-enact-change-world-we-must-protest/#/why-protests-matter-2.jpg
Me too Freddy me too
ow
This is sad
I like how the post I have with the most likes that’s actually MINE is the picture of my dOG OMF
One Raised by One, The Other Raised By Another
Just a simple what-if fic.
What would happen if only one of the brothers was raised by Elder Kettle, and the other one was raised by the Devil?
A LOT of trauma, death, and horrible, heartbreaking angst; that's for sure.
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I do advise against reading this if you're attached to ANY of these characters or are very sensitive
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Fire.
That's what Mugman knew his whole life. Nothing but hellfire and screams. He was used to it now.
This was what his whole life was filled with. Just the demonic energy as it swirled around him every day, and the wails and screams from sinners being tortured as he strolled down the isles of Inkwell Hell. Sometimes that strong, painful energy was used to reprimand him when he didn't do something right or when he failed in his duties, sometimes those screams were his, ignored by those who heard them, some being too busy in their agony to care about his, and others, imps, were used to the sickening sound.
Multiple scars and wounds covered his body covered by his clothes from his lessons. It didn't hurt him, not anymore. He was used to it, been used to it for a long time now. He understood why he was punished. He wasn't doing something right, he failed in his job, he spoke when he wasn't spoken to, he wasn't fast enough, wasn't good enough. He didn't see it as something bad, just something necessary.
He stopped fighting back.
He took his reprimands silently, acceptingly.
Unfortunately even that wasn't good enough for the boss, who lived off of suffering and agony. The tyrant subjected him to more mental punishments when he didn't scream or whimper from physical wounds.
He did much better after that adjustment. He couldn't hold his mental wounds, couldn't feel them because they weren't physical, couldn't rub them with ointment and cover them up with bandages.
They were permanent .
And he hated them.
Hated how they kept him up at night, making dark circles form under his eyes, showing off his fatigue for those who even cared enough to see. Hated how he'd stop breathing at some random point and panic for no reason at all. Hated how he feared his own emotions, so much that he separated himself from them as much as he could.
They were nothing but promises of more pain and agony.
His expressions and voice were now dull, monotone for those around him. For those who even bothered to give him their time, not for simple chatter, but to point and whisper, to tease and laugh and mock at. After all, how odd it was to be a place full of imps and demons, and then have only one out-of-place cup living and working among them.
He hated his co-workers. He didn't have any friends, but he felt he didn't have the time for any anyway.
There was one who was nice to him, a small plump imp called 'Henchman'. Their chats never lasted for long though. And when the Mug was horribly and brutally tortured, the imp never stepped in once but gave him bandages and ointment creams with a happy smile, devoid of any empathy. His kindness and the topic of sympathy were never the same.
It wouldn't have mattered anyway though.
Any bond the mug had with anyone never lasted long. If he bonded with the prisoners, his mind would be plagued with their glares of hatred and betrayal when their time came to be tortured, or when he would torture them himself. He never bonded with the imps, they all thought he was strange and ugly, with the handle on the back of his head, or the fact that he was made out of fragile glass.
He couldn't blame them, he thought he was odd and ugly too.
He never saw any reason not to think so. He was a one-of-a-kind. Not in personality but in what he was.
A mug.
A mug who was devoid of any hope or happiness. A mug who was simply a child in horribly wrong hands. A mug who yearned for any kind of warmth or kindness. A mug who wanted, who craved any kind of care or love. A mug who was so broken that no amount of therapy could help him recover from his mental scars, which run so deep.
He was a mug who was nothing more than a person who needed help and wanted it badly, never thought he deserved it, keeping his mouth shut.
He needed an emotion other than dullness, border, or heart-pounding terror. He couldn't remember any time he truly ever smiled.
He needed a break.
So when a certain man with a die for a head went down to fetch him, and rather rudely I may add, all he found was nothing more than an empty room, the mug long gone.
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Warmth and joy.
Mugman learned those two things in a certain, but oh-so-special moment in his life. He met someone, someone energetic, someone brash, someone adventurous, but also kind and warm.
He found his first-ever friend.
He was a cup creature like him, only having red on his nose and clothes and straw. His eyes were big and cocky, but also held a sense of friendliness in their gaze. His voice was loud and scratchy, spewing out whatever nonsense he felt like spilling.
His name was 'Cuphead', and Mugman found joy.
When they first met, he seemed odd to the other cup coming out of the bushes. But strangely, the child seemed to have taken a liking to him in a matter of seconds. He introduced himself and prompted Mugman to do the same. They shook hands, Mugman's handshake being tense and nervous, his hands ice cold to the touch, the cup's being confident and carefree, his hands warm.
Mugman felt warmth for the first time.
They went on adventures together, whenever Mugman would sneak out of Hell. The first time he got caught, he was reprimanded once more, but this didn't deter him.
He finally found someone who liked him, who didn't greet him with a glare or a look of disgust, but a joyful smile and a happy wave.
Mugman felt care.
When he visited Cuphead more and more, they became even closer. Almost like brothers. He eased up around the child and began to unwind. It felt more than nice. He wasn't reprimanded for having opinions, for showing what he felt.
He was called a lovely name: 'Mugsy'. Said with affection and care.
Mugman could almost sob with joy.
Then they met another, and Mugman was filled with euphoria at the implications of having two whole friends, who accepted him and truly liked him.
Mugman finally felt what it's like to be loved for the first time in his life.
He wished and prayed that it wasn't taken away from him. Prayed that the world was finally giving him mercy.
But nothing lasts forever.
He soon learned that the cup was very impulsive, an easy target for scammers or other people who could harm him. The other friend he had, Ms. Chalice, was a con artist, but he didn't have to worry about her harming them.
Mugman felt protectiveness. He wasn't going to let anything hurt his friend or his brother.
He wished he didn't let them see the horrible thing.
The dreadful casino.
--------------------------------------------------------
How did this go so wrong?
How...?
Why, why, why, why...?
It all happened when the cup foolishly believed his boss's promise of riches. They were tricked, he was going to kill him.
Until the fiend proposed a different idea. Collect all of his runaway debtors and he might spare them. Mugman saw through the lie immediately, but given that hope spot, the cup and chalice agreed desperately. Mugman didn't say anything. As they were rudely kicked out, Mugman practically felt his boss's stare on his back, a stare tainted with nothing but mischief and sadism.
He didn't know why his boss didn't share his secret with the very two he kept it from. Unease spreading throughout his body, he was dragged along by the other two.
It took two days to get the task done, having received potions from the cup's elderly caretaker.
When they defeated the foolish King Dice, they approached the devil without fear. When they refused to hand the contracts over, the devil, that bastard, did something Mugman would never forgive him for.
He revealed everything that Mugman kept hidden.
When they heard about this, shock and disbelief formed on the other children's faces. They at first vehemently denied it, refusing to believe Mugman would be capable of even considering joining the awful dark side. But Mugman confirmed it all.
It was silent.
Then they asked why, heartbreak and betrayal in their gazes, but the mug didn't have an answer. He simply looked down at his shoes.
But the next thing they did surprised him. They accepted the truth. They accepted everything that Mugman kept from them. Said that he was their friend. Said he was their brother.
Mugman felt the sting of tears.
The boss said nothing, frustration was written all over his face. But then something seemed to chime in the being's head because a malicious and devilish smile overtook his features. He simply pointed his trident at Mugman and fired before any of them could stop it.
All Mugman felt was unbearable pain, nothing but agony. He heard the other two call out his name in worry, felt gentle hands on his back, and heard the deity's horrible laughter.
The next thing he knew, he tore through clothes.
He tore through glass and skin.
He heard their pained cries, and felt their hands against his mouth, begging him to stop. To try and remember.
But there wasn't anything Mugman could do but sob, tears dripping down his face, sizzling out on the hot stone floor. He was nothing but a puppet under the Devil's control.
He begged and pleaded and prayed for any chance of gaining control. Of stopping this. But nothing.
The chalice was the first to go. Her face was disfigured along with the rest of her body. Her skull shattered.
Then was the cup, his last cry forever haunting the mug's mind:
"Mugsy no!"
His chest was torn open, his face was littered with cracks, the last of life draining away, and tears streamed down his face. Even in his dying state, the cup's eyes still bore into Mugman, this time being nothing more than hollow empty nothingness, the kindness and warmth forever gone from the world.
When he was done, Mugman could do nothing.
He couldn't even sob anymore. He ran out of tears for once.
All he did was stare in silent disbelief.
The Devil simply laughed and laughed and laughed . He mocked the mug, threatened him, and taunted him about all he had lost.
What the deity didn't expect was the mug suddenly snapping and rabidly tearing into him like a deranged animal. His pitchfork kicked away, and he was too shocked and powerless to do anything else.
This time, the only screams and pleas for mercy, were from the very person who lived off it.
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Mugman felt grief and despair.
The first people to show kindness and warmth to him were now gone. The only things that mattered to him were far away, all the way up there. In the place upstairs.
Where they belong.
They might have been reckless and greedy at times, but that wasn't their main defining trait. Wasn't his main defining trait.
Brash, stubborn, clever, reckless, cheerful, adventurous, hopeful, relentlessly optimistic, friendly, warm: he wished he could witness those again. Wished he could roll his eyes or scold the cup when he did something stupid again, wish he could tap dance along with Ms. Chalice once more, wish he could feel their loving embrace in a group hug.
Wished he could hear that special, affectionate word once more.
But it was too late. They were gone. He had nobody to cry to. No arms to hold him in a warm embrace.
He was as alone as he began.
Mugman felt rage.
Towards the person, he had locked up tight. The person he went down to give his dose of sadism to. The sadism, he never truly felt satisfied with. He lost all his happiness, now he was simply drained.
Mugman felt hatred.
He blamed himself for it all. If he had done nothing if he had simply continued to watch the world from outside. If he had simply continued to not be a part of the world, things would have turned out so much differently. They would have been alive and happy.
So for their sake, he continued to live. For them. He did the things they wanted to do. Watch the new Dirk Dangerous movie at the theatre, go on as many rides as possible at several amusement parks, eat a stomach-aching pile of sweets, explored Inkwell Isles, and so much more. Such simple, mundane things.
Such special cherishes.
It was oh-so-achingly beautiful.
The Devil's minions feared and hated him, but he didn't care. Couldn't care less. This wasn't for their sake anyways. They weren't as obedient when he first ruled, but when he snuffed out a traitor, that stupid dice, in vile and awful ways, they started to conform to him.
He could practically smell their fear. And he both gagged and relished at the implications it brought.
He kept a distant and aloof demeanor toward his minions. Made sure not to falter or reveal his true feelings of nothingness and emotion-numbing pain.
So when they would hear him sobbing himself to sleep every night, every night, they did their best not to acknowledge or speak about it. It was best for their safety.
When they saw him hitting himself on the head out of frustration and anger, with enough force to form cracks and bruises, they minded their own business. When they heard him mourn over the two children's graves, they turned their gaze.
They didn't see a powerful and respectful leader, they merely saw a broken, emotionally unstable, psychologically exhausted, and mentally fragile child who looked ready to snap at any given time. They did their best not to push him to that point. But they lost sight of whether it was out of pity or fear.
But if they hated it, they couldn't do anything to help themselves, they were only minions after all.
So they did nothing and accepted the new Devil. The new ruler of all hell, broken and already defeated.
----------------------------------------
I am not sorry >:)
Muahahahahahahhaha!!!
I made myself sad realizing that Sonic is going to leave Nine for his own universe when it's fixed and when that happens Nine will be alone again. I made myself EVEN SADDER when I realized Sonic and Nine's goals can never be achieved at the same time, and they're opposite to each other's ideologies and morals.
I know!! Like I can't help but think of Nine when I hear the soundtrack.
ESPECIALLY the song 'What we could've been' just screams the entire relationship between Sonic and Nine. Sonic loves TAILS, but he can't genuinely love Nine for who he is as a person, to Sonic, Nine is just a variant of his baby brother. So Sonic doesn't love 'who Nine is'. When Sonic rejected Nine's offer, he 'broke Nine and left these pieces' when Nine finally opened up to him. Nine clearly dreams of 'what could've been'.
There's just so much I want to say about this-!
Hhhh I'm listening to Arcane soundtrack again after a while and all of the songs just give me massive New Yoke and Nine vibes, like I'm being tormented by so many visions rn none of you can comprehend
Prime's just a happy and awesome show until you realize what Sonic's goal entails and what the cost truly IS. What the real stakes and conflicts are in the show. Then you can't see the show as the same anymore when you know that it's really just a horribly bittersweet and very dark story waiting to be finished. Other Sonic shows and media had some sad moments, but they ultimately came with a hopeful tone and happy ending afterward. Hell, even SATam wasn't this depressing, sure it took place in a dystopian wasteland, but there was hope and they fought for freedom. Plus there were plenty of lighthearted and comedic moments, not to mention conflicts often ended with happy endings.
And the Sonic in SATam fought for the right thing no matter what, going by his own rules and doing things he WOULD naturally do BY HIS OWN CHOICE.
Sonic in Prime has to do things he would NEVER do otherwise, but he DOESN'T HAVE A CHOICE. He HAS to hurt his friends, and he HAS to leave others behind, he HAS to go against his own morals and erase, effectively killing, the variants of his friends and the entire Shattered Space to restore the world (if the theory that the variants are just pieces of the main cast is correct), HE is the one that HAS to, and the only one who CAN, squash their hope and everything they did (which is even worse because HE WAS THE ONE TO GIVE THEM HOPE IN THE FIRST PLACE), and worst of all; he HAS to reject NINE: a variant of his dear little brother, who wants nothing more than to be with him in a world where it's just the two of them together. Where Nine offers him a new HOME where BOTH of them can be happy forever.
And don't even get me started on Nine, good lord.
Every Sonic media gave Sonic a choice, and had him fight for the right thing, but is the theory that everything will be erased and the variants will "die" to become mere traits once more in order to restore the world and bring his friends back a thing he's willing to accept? Other Sonic media, EVEN Frontiers, gave Sonic a choice and showed that Sonic would always do the right thing, doing what he would do.
Not to mention what Sonic is going through here. He encounters versions of his friends that attack him, are indifferent to him, and don't recognize him. Friends he once hung out with and followed him everywhere. Friends he basically broke and lost along with the world he protected because of his own actions. And the end of the FIRST BATCH really sells in the emotional hell and suffering Sonic is going through beneath his bubbly and optimistic demeanor when his voice cracks while he states how he just wants to go home. We don't even get to see his face when he says this, which makes it WORSE.
Most Sonic media, while sad, has a hopeful tone and gives their characters a choice. But Prime is just…emotionally traumatizing and extremely dark through and through when you really look at it past the light-hearted moments, the slight comedy, the wacky gimmicks, and the bright, bouncy characters. Makes you realize that this isn't going to be for the light-hearted and emotionally sensitive as it continues.
The worst part? This is from the FIRST EIGHT EPISODES.
when the effects of media wear off and suddenly you're just a girl in a room all over again
the fact this is supposed to be the same character hurts me
i just in recent tours the make up for me at least has been the weakest part and i think it's especially noticeable in some of the background toms
please tell me i'm not alone in this
Old, worn quilt.
You look like an old, worn quilt.
Clutched and clung to, a beacon of hope,
dragged and fingered, been through everything
cool nights
barely visible stars
you’re ripping at the seams, stuffing almost out
patched up, over and over
odd patterns, different thread
old.
worn.
quilt.
Old, worn quilt.
You look like an old, worn quilt.
Clutched and clung to, a beacon of hope,
dragged and fingered, been through everything
cool nights
barely visible stars
you’re ripping at the seams, stuffing almost out
patched up, over and over
odd patterns, different thread
old.
worn.
quilt.
thinking a bit more about tim's interview and tim saying that he imagines gale was bullied, for his studiousness, and learning to use humour both as a weapon and a shield:
tara absolutely would've thrown hands - or paws, in her case - for gale. i Know it in my heart. my new headcanon is that tara mauled at least one child.
(but also: absolutely do not imagine tara curling up around gale, maybe even hugging him with one of her wings, much, much later, when it's quiet and gale is trying to hide his tears.
"my little love...")
Kaladin’s journey in ROW is just so dear to me