Rakuninmura... Or Something Like It @endlessdelirium - Tumblr Blog

Nothing to see here (or "We can't stop here. This is Bat Country!)

Hello from The Void! How did you get here? Well, I probably liked one of your posts, or I read something you posted that really resonated with me to the point that I broke my silence and actually responded (instead of just lurking like a creepy ghost). Or you're probably like a creepy ghost yourself and saw my username enough times or read one of my comments that made you wonder just who is this moron spouting off all this nonsense? Either way, you thought you'd check out my account and return the favor, or something, I really have no idea why you're here lol.

The thing is, I made this account years ago. I had a couple of irl friends who also had accounts, so I followed them plus a handful of other people from my interests back then. And it was great for awhile, until social media fatigue set in. This was nothing new. There'd be new social media sites that would be trendy for a time, and I'd be curious enough to try it for awhile, until I realize lol I'm not a very social person irl, why would I be better at it online? So I start losing interest until I eventually stop checking in. Even now, I am barely on any social media sites. I keep my Facebook account active because that's pretty much the only way people could get in touch with me if they don't have my number, and I'm on Reddit all the time but I barely post/comment there as well and just mostly lurk (like a creepy, creepy ghost wooohhh. Nah, but seriously, social anxiety is a real bitch!) Other than that, I practically have zero social media presence.

So I'm pretty much done with Tumblr... until Haikyuu dragged me back in. I can't really remember when I entered the fandom, I think I started watching sometime in late 2018 and I've been obsessing ever since. Reading the manga wasn't enough, I wanted more content. The Reddit sub was okay... for awhile. Eventually I wandered back into the wastelands of Twitter and Tumblr, all in my pursuit of extra Haikyuu juice. Yes, there's no point denying it, I'm pretty much an addict at this point. Stop judging me.

The thing is, I'm also incredibly lazy. I didn't see the point of creating new accounts when my old ones are still serviceable. For all intents and purposes, this account is pretty much dead. It's just, sometimes (okay, lots of times) I would scroll through Haikyuu tags and I would find something funny, insightful, pretty, interesting that I just have to like it (or is it hearting something? Sorry, I'm not really well versed in Tumblr lingo anymore) or leave a comment to show my appreciation. Which is all well and good, it's just lately a couple of people have been following my account, which isn't terrible per se, I just find it a bit weird since I haven't posted anything new in years. Really, the only thing I updated was my profile pic, since my account was supposed to be a personal one, and wasn't supposed to be dedicated to just a specific fandom so the pic I originally used was one of my irl head which is just... ick! I don't know what I was thinking. So I changed it because I didn't want to frighten anyone by manifesting my mug in their notifications, and really Hinata's head is infinitely better than my head so it can only be an improvement for my account.

Other than that, I pretty much left everything as is. I didn't have the heart to delete everything. In a way, it's kind of like a time capsule for me, still, I don't really recognize the me who made these posts anymore. I mean, I don't have amnesia or anything. I sorta remember them, but since they were made by a younger version of me, one with different interests and obsessions (I mean still share some of these things with this person, it's just a lot has changed as well, and I've since changed my opinion about some things) there's a sort of detachment as well. Which is why it feels like receiving a jolt of electricity everytime I get a new notification that someone has liked a picture or post. It's like "Huh?", I sort of remember the post, but also not really since it was litterally from years ago made by a younger and more naive me. "Okay, I guess?" is all I can say at the end.

So, what now? I still don't want delete my posts. Even though it kind of weirds me out now, I still like having it as a record. Like "Hey, this was ME! Wasn't I weird? I mean, I'm still weird, but in a slightly different way. Anyway, wasn't I a riot?" I also don't feel like making a new account. I still don't really consider myself active in these parts. I just like scrolling through my tags of interest (like a creepy stalker), liking awesome fan arts, and leaving a comment or two when I couldn't contain myself anymore and I just had to say something. I've also thought about re-blogging things sometimes, but I feel that would tip my account back into a semi-active state, and I don't feel like it just yet. Maybe in the future. For now I kinda like keeping my account as is, as a time capsule when I was still active here.

So, where does that leave you? I still don't really know why you're here, but you're welcome to have a look around. Just remember you're looking at an old account and it would help if you view it like a window to the past. I don't mind if you like anything, just know I only have vague memories of making any of those posts so I can't really discuss any of them now. If you're okay with all of that, then make yourself at home... or not, I'm not the boss of you lol.

Anyway, you're still here? And you read everything? Why? I mean, wow, what a trooper! I gotta reward you with something. You know what, here's a picture of Hinata. Did I draw it? Of course not, don't be silly! I like art, but unfortunately art doesn't like me so I can't draw to save my life. So this here's just regular manga panels of Hinata. But not just any Hinata, it's Third Year Hinata! Why? Why not? I see many itenerations of Hinata on Tumblr including Brazil Hinata, but for some reason I don't see Third Year Hinata get as much love on here. I don't really get it. He is so precious. So here he is!

Bonus: The Duality of Hinata

Thanks for stopping by. Have a nice day!

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charminglyantiquated

a short comic about witches and wishes and wanting things.

seductivebabygirl4daddy-deactiv

Found on FB. I am Juicy Sugarlips.

dollykills-deactivated20240929

Sultry Goddess…

I’ll take it.

monkeychusetts

Sensous Hot Lips…

lucisaves

Luscious Sugarlips

endlessdelirium

Tantalizing Goddess, hmm?

femininechrist

thisdanobrien

Do you know, I have never really grown up? It’s a hard thing for me to play this game. In politics one must meet people, and that is not easy for me… It’s been hard for me all my life. When I was a little fellow, as long ago as I can remember, I would go into a panic if I heard a stranger [sic] voices in the house. I felt I just couldn’t meet the people and shake hands with them. Most of the visitors would sit with Mother and Father in the kitchen, and the hardest thing in the world was to have to go through the kitchen door and give them a greeting. I was almost ten before I realized that I couldn’t go on that way, and by fighting hard, I used to manage to go through the old kitchen door back home, and it is not easy…

President Calvin “Silent Cal” Coolidge in an incredibly rare moment of openness with a close friend.

Depression is a real thing and a hard thing and even Presidents get it. He lost his mother and sister very early and his father was distant, and when he was president he lost his son in a freak accident. Despite all that, going through the old kitchen door back home still felt like the hardest thing in the world. But, hey. He still did it.

Fight hard.

(via thisdanobrien)

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finishingschoolbooks

How to Ride a Werewolf

Now remember, a lady rides sidesaddle, NOT astride. Your mother would be in hysterics at the very idea that a daughter of hers would ride a werewolf astride! Why, next you’ll be showing ankle…

kaijufluffs

I may have found my new favourite thing.

lucisaves

I’ll sit astride if I damn well please.

endlessdelirium

And this is why I love Tumblr.

lesbianpalamedes

Are gods really gods if no one believes in them anymore? Zeus takes walks in the rain and tries to talk up joggers in central park. When they bolt, or only return his advances with polite smiles that look like fence posts too high for even him to jump, he sighs. He tells them he is a god, and his words echo back to him, accompanied by laughter. No one believes him He picks up his wife, who might be his sister in this time, in a beat up car with a beautiful flame job, Hera is a marriage counselor with peacock feather bags under her eyes, her advice falls on her own deaf ears as her jealous eyes roam over every girl they pass, and she is right to. She knows this. She has always known. Poseidon’s hands are rough and calloused, he raises cargo too heavy for a man his age, the young ones say. He laughs his fisherman’s laugh, all depths and riptide, because no one should be his age. He reminds himself he is one of the lucky ones, he gets to be around what he loves. He may not have his dominion any more, but salt water and sun still weather his face. Hades stalks the streets at night, women cross the street to avoid him, and he smiles with his needle-teeth, they are right to. This winter he is without a bride, and he still wants to usher souls into the afterlife, the pistol hangs heavy in his pocket, his tongue glints gold, the coin to pay his Charon, his most loyal employee. He brings knives to gunfights and guns to fistfights, he stands with his arms out like their new God, these fickle humans, he welcomes the bullets. He dares them to kill him. They try. Ares and Athena spit curses laced with whiskey from across dive bar floors, they are moving human pawns across a chessboard. They were strategists before they were gangsters, but it doesn’t matter now. Apollo sings in a nightclub, his crooning voice from a forgotten time. He has his sister’s blood under his fingernails, from stitching up wound after wound, Artemis forgets she is not invincible anymore. He sings about the moon and wonders where she is, picking a fight with some would-be rapist, maybe it’s Zeus. It’s probably Zeus. Again. Dionysus drinks away their shared pain, dealing LSD in dark alleyways, he whispers sweet promises and his followers believe him, he was human once and he can be again, like wine, he knew nothing so sweet could have lasted forever. Icarus sidles up to his side, asking if he’s got anything that can make you feel like you can fly. In this life, he is a junkie, and Daedalus watches with ancient, sad eyes. Icarus is melting and Dionysus is letting him. Hestia sits by the hearth and waits for her family to come home. And she listens while they all curse their immortality. She shakes her head slow and clicks her tongue, I know, my darlings, I know. Are gods really gods if no one believes in them anymore? Does it matter?

Marissa Dakin, 2015 (via roseghoul)

medievalpoc

via EvilMarguerite on Twitter

belakqwa

I’m against putting POC characters in tales of European origin, because, y’know, historical and ethnic accuracy is an actual thing. It’s folklore and it comes from this or that European culture so, yes, accuracy IS a thing. BUT. I’m all for making more movies based on mythology and folklore of other cultures, for example, African or Native American ones. This I support, it would be a great thing. Because, in all honesty, no one needs Black or Asian Cinderella, that’s just stupid (and, yes, inaccurate). but everyone needs more tales about a child lost in the forest meeting spirits and forest gods. Or at least lets make a movie using an Asian variant of Cinderella fairy tale, there’s more than one, y’know? Because I’m all for accuracy and I’m all for representing more than one dominant culture in multicultural society.

medievalpoc

Are you for real? I bolded the above statements because you know what?

*I* needed a Black Cinderella. And I bet a lot of readers here did, too. We still do.

Because of colonialism, most of us have been force-fed European history, mythology, fairy tales, and Medievalism; told it’s the best, the highest, the only. It’s everywhere we look: movies, cartoons, books, tv shows, and we’re told that this is something you are required to learn, and in some cases, the only context you’re allowed for your imagination, but it’s not really for you. It’s not about you. Because you aren’t “Historically Accurate.”

That can go to hell and so can you. Because you know what? Our histories, once again, because of colonialism, kidnapping, enslavement, genocide, are marginalized, misunderstood, and misrepresented. They’re stolen from us and given to white people considered “more qualified” to tell them, and they make millions of dollars off of those misrepresentations. Entire libraries and histories were purposely, methodically burned in order to disempower people of color. These stories, when they survive, are made illegal to teach, specifically because they empower people of color! People of color are removed from their own stories and their own contexts and replaced with white people, because Ridley Scott “can’t mount a film of this budget, where I have to rely on tax rebates in Spain, and say that my lead actor is Mohammad so-and-so from such-and-such.I’m just not going to get it financed.”

You claim you’re all for accuracy? And yet, a “Black or Asian Cinderella” is in your words, “just stupid”??? None of these women are “Accurate” to base a Cinderella on??

[source]

All of these women are just automatically disqualified from having their own Cinderella Story because of their races? No matter how “Historically Accurate” they are?

[source on all images here]

I think we can have both, all, and more. We can tell our own stories, make our own media, AND have a Black AND and Asian AND a Native American AND a Pacific Islander AND a Latina and any other Cinderella we choose. Our stories are worth telling, and for some of us, whose cultures have been crushed by multiple genocides, who have been colonized, who have had our imaginations replaced with Eurocentrism, we are allowed and entitled to our own Cinderella stories, whatever new and beautiful form they take.

lucisaves

OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK THIS:

I’m against putting POC characters in tales of European origin, because, y’know, historical and ethnic accuracy is an actual thing.

LISTEN UP: MY WASTED TIME IN COLLEGE STUDYING FOLKLORE IS ABOUT TO PAY OFF.

CINDERELLA IS NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT FUCKING NOT A “TALE OF EUROPEAN ORIGIN.”

Every motherfucking culture out there has a variation of the Cinderella folktale. The earliest example of the story is from EGYPT. The story falls under a broader heading of “persecuted heroine stories” (Aarne-Thompson 510, specifically 510A, but seriously fuck A-T in general). There are stories that follow the exact same theme everywhere.

Oh, but you specifically mean the traditional “Cinderella” story, right? With the glass slipper and the pumpkin and the fairy godmother?

All of which come from the version of the story written by Charles Perrault in the late 17th century.

But Perrault HIMSELF changed things about the story. Read the Brothers Grimm version: no fairy godmother, Cinderella gets her dress and shoes from a tree that’s actually her dead mother. Actually, make that DRESSES: she gets three different outfits for three different balls. The slipper used to identify her is GOLDEN and her stepsisters CUT PARTS OF THEIR FEET OFF to fucking fit into it. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the birds then peck out their eyes.

AND THE GRIMM BROTHERS VERSION ISN’T THE MOST “ACCURATE.” Because they were just recording stories they heard told all over the place. Theirs is not the “original” version of the story.

Oh, but we’re talking about not changing folktales of “European origin.” Europe’s a big place. So, we using the Scottish version with the coat of rushes and burying a dead calf to get the prince? The Irish version where they’re not stepsisters but blood relative sisters and one of them pushes the Cinderella character into a whale’s mouth and takes her place? The Russian version with a talking dead fish?

And THOSE are just the closest variations on the story. You wanna get into stuff like Vasilisa The Beautiful, you get Baba Yaga, a magical doll and, oh, yeah A SKULL ON A STICK THAT INCINERATES HER FUCKING STEP-FAMILY (which, honestly, I’ve always thought was fucking awesome). You go to A-T 510B (again, not my favorite folklore examination system) and you get stories extremely close to the Cinderella story but mostly with added gross incest shit.

WHAT I’M GETTING AT HERE: if your argument about the race of Cinderella is some kind of “respect for the story” thing, fuck you. Because you legitimately have no fucking clue what you are talking about. The nature of folktales is to adapt and change for the times and places they are being told in and the audiences they are being told FOR. And, fuck, I mean, even SHAKESPEARE has been altered through the years depending on who was in power and what audiences wanted to see.

There’s NO fucking “historical accuracy” for Cinderella because IT’S NOT A HISTORICAL DOCUMENT. It’s a fucking STORY and stories belong TO EVERYONE.

FUCKERS.

girlshapedvoid

onlyleigh

"There’s a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that that’s all some people have? It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing in this cockeyed caravan."

-sullivan’s Travels

sol-domino-deactivated20220303

This is literally what I tried to do through my entire time at college, and yet my teachers still yelled at me about not trying to ham-fist meaning into my art an animations.

naamahdarling

I’ve watched so many Good For You (TM) movies, so many that people recommended like prescriptions.

Not a single one of those, not a single one, gave me the emotional response of, say, Pacific Rim.

I don’t care what you think of that specific example, I just want to say that sometimes stupid escapist ridiculousness is exactly what the world needs.

"People don’t want the truth! They want opiates! They’re just sheep! They don’t care about my Important Meaningful Insights!"

Yeah, no, fuck off. My life is kind of difficult, I’ve been suicidal, I’m hella poor, I’m mentally ill, things aren’t rosy. I don’t want your fucking Saving Private Ryans. I don’t want your Brokeback Mountains.

I want Pacific Rim. I want The Rocketeer. I want Enchanted.

Because my life contains enough truth. Too much truth.

Take me away from that truth. Don’t dice it up, garnish it, and serve it back to me.

Take me away. That’s the real challenge. That’s the only art I really want anymore.

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reallycorking

I felt compelled by this post to illustrate a typical valentine’s day morning for Harry and Ginny………..

sixpenceee

As a girl I can verify that this is true. So next time think twice you perverted creeps.

endlessdelirium

hahaha

kay-krs

"When cancer takes a life, we blame cancer. Depression is a disease. Don’t blame the victim for losing the fight" 😔😢😪 #robinwilliams #restinpeace no I’m still not over it. This picture is so correct I can’t #rip

cinematicnomad

apparently e.l. james called former child star mara wilson (matilda) a “sad f**k” for critiquing the 50shades books a while ago and now there’s a feud. i love it.

cleolinda

lostgrrrls

I really have no stake in this whole 50 Shades of Grey business (and no interest whatsoever in reading or watching it) but this is AMAZING.

endlessdelirium

i love mara wilson.

so tired. so so tired...

#depression #anxiety #no more please

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