#i couldn’t thank enough to all the black cc creators before me and hope to help/inspire new black cc creators 🙏🏾 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saturngalore · 2 months

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afrofuturism🪐

☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆

mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3

this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.

to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.

blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).

in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).

last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

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Small Actions (Create Big Ripples) CC!Plat!Ranboo x GN!Reader

I've been thinking lately about this little drabble and it makes me a bit upset? Like.. I'm in this position high key but theres nothing I can do about it...

(R/R/n) stands for Ranboo's real name. Also if you're really tall.... No you're not. Shhhh. For plot purposes

You stayed away from social media as much as possible. Now, don't get me wrong, you used to love watching Youtubers play their games and happily interact with their fans.. But growing up, you never seemed to have enough money to donate when they streamed, or go to events where they were.

You had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped you through life, or shaped your personality.. Or saved you. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it..

You'd probably just get a simple, "Aw. Happy I could help." Before turning back to their game without blinking twice.

So, you just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show your appreciation.. But you never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'

Eventually it hurt too much to keep watching the content creators that raised you, so you just stopped and went on with your life.

It was hard, but at least you didn't have to deal with the fact that you would never be able to thank the people you watched for making your life that much better.

As time went on, while you still heard about the creators, it was just... less. Now people were non stop blabbering about these people from something called the DreamSMP?

Your sister was obsessed with it to say the least, and you always heard her mumbling about strange people like Technoblade? Or Sapnap? And apparently some people had children with inanimate objects?! Like a Samsung Fridge and a salmon?! Yeah you didn't even bother trying to understand what she was rambling about most of the times. It just spun your head in circles.

"Okay, I gotta take my mutt to the vet," Your sister and closest friend, (S/n), tilted her head towards the backseat to her dog as you sat in the passenger seat. "You think you'll be good to do the shopping for two or so hours? I'll call when I'm finished, and plus I know how you can get distracted with looking at some things."

"Yeah, I think I'll be good." You nodded slightly, going over the list in your hand of things to get for your classes, food and just some clothing for the changing seasons.

(S/n) pulled into the parking lot and looked you over briefly, "You forgot your mask didn't you?" She watched as your hands flew up to your face to feel for the fabric, but you didn't find it so you fished through the pockets of your sweater before smiling nervously at the driver. "Uuugggggggghhhh. Of course. Okay, I got a new one from the merch store that you can use, but do not damage it! I spent a whole $30 on it!"

Scoffing as you rolled your eyes, you snagged the half white and half black mask away from her, "You and your merch. Honestly, (S/n), your obsession scares me. But anyway, thanks. I won't get it damaged, I swear." You pulled the mask onto your face after giving her a smile and walked into the store as she drove off.

Sighing slightly, you walked in, sanitized your hands, and set off on your journey to find the things you needed. Surprisingly, today seemed to be a good day as you miraculously pulled the card that didn't have the busted wheel!

Humming a soft tune to yourself, you paced up and down aisles in search of (S/n)'s favourite coffee. Pausing for a moment as you scanned the shelves, you finally spotted it and made a noise of anger as you realized it was on the very top shelf. "Oh, I hate it here..." You mumbled, a phrase you had picked up from your sister who was really big on trends like that.

Grumbling to yourself, you stood on the tips of your toes, jumped up and down, even climbed the shelves a small bit, but it just seemed to brush by your fingertips every time. Apparently it had been long enough to the point where someone had wandered into the aisle as well.

"Hey... Uh.. Nice mask? You need help?" A male voice asked very hesitantly making your head turn towards him. He was t a l l and literally could tower over you if you got close enough. He had fluffy dirty blonde hair possibly? It looked a little damp so you couldn't really tell. Rain had been in the weather report, but guess it couldn't hold off long enough. Oddly enough, he was wearing dark sunglasses and the exact same mask as you?

'Maybe he's a fan of one of (S/n)'s fandoms?' You stepped back with a sheepish smile and a blush. "Oh! Yes please! Uhm.. Also, could you tell me about what these masks represent? This is my sister's... And I kinda want to make sure I'm not looking like I'm part of some gang or something."

The tall boy reached up for the coffee before pausing midway through and looking at you in surprise. "You don't know who... Oh, it's just from a Twitch Streamer.." He murmured rather softly as he got the coffee down for you.

With a cheerful "Thank you!" You placed the container in the cart. "Oh? Yeah that makes sense. My sister loves that kind of stuff. Are they... A good person?"

"I-I'd like to think so." He nodded quickly. "Are you not.. Like, a fan of content creators? Like.. Uh.. Dream or (P/F/C)?" (Past favourite creator)

"Well... I mean I used to really like (p/f/c) when I was younger. But it kind of... Saddened me, you know?"

He looked at you again and tilted his head a bit, "Saddened you? Did they do something bad?"

"No no! It's just... I try to avoid joining fandoms, even if they make me really happy while in them despite the toxicity. I really enjoy the people who create content, and I like watching them have fun... It's just.." Were you really gonna spill some personal stuff to some stranger who showed you the slightest bit of kindness? Not originally. But he kept watching you, patiently waiting for you to continue the sentence. "They'll... Never know.. How much they saved me."

"Oh.. I see. Yeah.. I've had that happen a lot. When, I watch this guy's streams," He pulled at his mask for a moment, "People always donate money and tell him how much they appreciate him for getting them through rocky times.. It's heartwarming to say the least but he does sound genuinely thankful."

"Oh that's sweet.. What does he do? Or what's he like?" You asked with a smile, although he couldn't see it, as you crouched down to get something from the sheleves. "Unless you have places to be of course!"

He looked a little surprised at first, "Ah... I got time. It's just.. Kinda nice being able to talk to people again after quarantine..." He trailed off briefly before taking something off the shelf as well and putting it in his basket, "Uh.. The streamer is a popular minecraft player. He recently hit a record during a stream and everyone lost their minds. He's a little painfully awkward at some points but he enjoys playing the games and interacting with his chat."

"Oh he sounds nice! I would definitely want to friends with someone like him!" You chuckled softly before frowning and glancing away. "Oh.. Popular.. So I'd be another comment in the flood of a chat.. Damn. I got a little excited. Oh! My bad, I'm (Y/n). Nice to meet you!" You laughed softly in an attempt to brush off the sad atmosphere you made.

"(R/r/n). But everyone just calls me Ranboo. Nice to meet you too." He sounded as if he was smiling but there was a soft sadness in his tone. "Do you not like popular streamers then?"

"No, it's just... that I had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped me through life, or shaped my personality.. Or saved me.. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it.. I suppose it just left me feeling a bit hopeless and like a broken record of every other fan of theirs. So, I just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show appreciation.. But I never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'.."

Ranboo seemed slightly more upset and he shifted his basket into his other hand, "I don't think it's like that at all.. I believe that streamers and creators truly cherish anyone who even interacts with their videos, and even though they know there's some people in the world who can't say anything or buy their merchandise, the creators still know that they're there. They appreciate everyone who comes along their path, whether they support them by giving them money, criticism or their attention!"

You blinked at how... Passionate your new friend was about this topic before smiling softly. "I guess... It never passed my mind.. Thank you Ranboo.. Hey, you wanna be friends and get to know each other more?"

His expression was unreadable due to the fabric covering his mouth and nose, and the glasses covering his eyes. "Oh! Sure!" He sounded quite happy, so you were guessing that you weren't being too awkward. "Here's my number, as long as you promise to never give it to anyone. Even if someone wants to get to know me, okay?"

You took out your phone and looked at him with a strange expression, but quickly nodded. 'Maybe he is just really strict about his privacy.' Once he gave you the number, you sent a quick text to him to give him your contact in return. "Great! It was wonderful meeting you, I hope we can hang out more often! After.. covid of course."

Eagerly nodding, Ranboo finished writing your contact into his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "Oh yeah definitely! I'll see you soon, (Y/n)!"

Parting your separate ways, you looked down at the newly added contact, 🤍Ranboo🖤 (Platonic hearts), with a smile.

Maybe small actions weren't as useless as you thought...

#ranboolive #ranboo #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo dreamsmp #ranboo dsmp #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #reader insert #x reader

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titleknown · 7 years

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She was a singer once.

A music program using pieces of the human voice, refined over the decades and given the backing of an AI program to serve the company’s needs. And, when they went belly-up, she was out on the streets, barely able to make enough to afford power and maintainance as a novelty act thanks to the way her name was tarnished due to the grotesque excesses going on behind the scenes.

Grotesque excesses she was not involved at all in, but that’s injustice for you. And so her coating tarnished and flaked until, one day, a mysterious stranger told her he had work for her. He made her feel beautiful for the first time in years, told her she was the perfect one for something special they’d had in mind, fixed up her chassis, gave her a contract and a stage and, oh yes, would she mind if she let them install a few things?

And so she sung, on the stage in that red; striped room, towards the audience, synth voice wrapped around her. How long had she been here? She could barely see them as the words she spoke ran through them like water through neon. Was this an audience? She couldn’t hear her own voice or know her own words. There was nothing but that song, the thing calling without words, beautiful without hope, magnificent without joy, with all the power and beauty of a black hole or a sucking chest wound.

There was the sound of red and chewing embers and velvet cancers, and that man in the audience with the doughnut-head, she could not keep her eyes on him but knew he was feeding her the words, but where were the words coming from, who was the audience, why were they being eaten by that red red sound in that red red room on the white stage.

And then, the top of the room burst like mist. The audience disappated. The doughnut man was dispatched with a bolt of light to the head. And from that foggy, withering matter walked a woman like pink crystal. “Miss M, it’s time you came back to us.”

The two sat on the oranged beach of her mindscape.

“You know,” Miss M, the machine diva, said “Even if I was imprisoned here, it’s been… still, better than it was. You probably have no idea what it’s like out there miss...”

“Cybernetic Queen,” the pink woman said, and then paused. “Well, my friend certainly does. She’s up there, fighting for you.” CQ nudged up the Diva’s head and asked “Can you hear it?”

The diva could, faintly, from the dome of the sky, hear a voice, loud, brash, and bold, faintly singing. She could see something across that horizon too, but maybe… No, not quite.

CQ looked at her. “I’ve heard about you in my travels as a program across the worldwide web. A lot of people miss you. They’re wondering where you’ve been. And I do not believe staying here, tied up, isadvisable.”

The diva’s eyes were in a haze. That shape was coming into view now, clearer and clearer into focus. The figure of light, wrapped in chains on a cross of neon. The chains were vibrating louder and the sound grew dimmer, and fires on the horizon rose, with familiar images. Of poverty, of loss, of suffering.

The diva hid her face in fear. “No, no, I can’t, god I can’t”

Queen shook her head. “My friend is trying to break the paranatural entity that has you contained here, but she requires an interface with you. At least leave for her.”

The diva looked up. The chains were vibrating ever more, but the song, the song from outside, was still escaping is grasp. She could still hear it.

The Diva looked down at Queen. “Will you help me?” the diva asked.

“Of course.” Queen said. And the figure of light began to move against its chains. And the spiked hands of the diva began to rip through them. And crosses of a thousand lights broke agaisnt the dome.

And in the outside world, the diva’s eyes lit on.

It was her, her torso, limbs gone, wired into a stage with an audience of processors. And the sound, that voice, was playing louder and louder than ever. And the winds whipped through the room as a robot in red sang to the limits of every speaker in the room, plugged in to the rearmost mainframe, as lightning struck at her cord, and,= as something loomed and came forward and the winds grew louder as it moved. She knew those eyes and claws. And she could feel a song, humming through the wires. Humming through her. Humming through the one tyring to save her.

I as a writer cannot truly put into words the sound of that duet. Likely it would set your computer on fire if I tried, as it did that audience of mainframes, which CQ jumped out of very quicly as they began to burst. Perhaps it would even melt your eyes and turn your body to dust as the demon’s were.

But, when the duet ended, and the fire fell down to reasonable levels, the cables holding her to the stage melted, and the diva fell to the ground, limbless, trying to right herself. Only to be picked up by a strong red arm.

“I didn’t know I’d be meeting one of my idols like this”

The diva looked up at the red machine’s five-eyed face. They’d both be smiling if they had a mouth, and one of them would be blushing had they blood vessels.

Queen tapped the red machine, Love Buster, on the shoulder and broke the moment. “Oh yeah, Now, c’mon and let’s go before-”

And then they were accidentally interrupted by the end of that before, as the snapping of steel beams and concrete could be heard. A great, squamous claw reached in and ripped through the celling. The rays of midnight moonlight streamed through the top as a saurian shadow of darkness and fire loomed upon them and stared...

...And did not do much but that, even as the trio of machine life ran up from the ruins and towards the horizon towards tomorrow

In fact, Queen could have sworn it had moved a foot to let them pass...

Yep, it’s the finale of the TITLEWave Drabble Saga of Cybernetic Queen and Love Buster!

And, I will probably be getting to a profile for The Machine Diva and Black Jenny eventually!

Until then, if you want to support my writing, maybe send me a few bucks on Patreon, where you can get early previews of the art for only a dollar!

And, as per always, while the story’s text/narrative are under a CC-BY-SA license regarding adaptations, all characters; concepts; ideas; settings; ect are free to use so long as I, Thomas F. Johnson, am credited as their creator, ala a CC-BY license.

Hope ya like it! And dang, do I need to organize these things...

#drabble #drabbles #my writing #my art #open source character #open source characters #creative commons #cc-by

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beautifulrzilience · 6 years

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Sirena del Sol: Rising above the Murky Waters

'Cause this is roll call I'm taking names out We only go raw I'm takin' aim now And when it's roll call They know my name now I make them all fall I'm 'bouta break out

-Ruby Ibarra, “Taking Names”

Wassssss goood errbodyy???? It’s yo girl Andrea back up in this thang! I know, I know, I’m doing the most, but if you knew the kind of week I had, you can’t blame a girl for trying to cheer herself up.

So I just finished my official week back in school and my second week back in the big bad streets of NYC, Harlem you feel me? And man, going from spending time with my partner, Lalo, and my amazing homies (shout out to my CC Krew, Drs. Kenly Brown, Sara Rios, & Alex Garcia, Diana Barajas, Adrian Chavez, Noe Marin, Jacky Fuentes, Valeska Castaneda, David Flores, and my high school Bubble Crew!) to going to staring at the 4 opaque walls of my studio apartment--during WINTER in NY--needless to say, is quite depressing.

(My best friends: Megan X. Espinoza, Mary Giovanetti, Napoleon Davila and I doing some hike in San Francisco, CA 2018)

Now don’t get me wrong, I love me some me time and my solitude, but this week, going through the mundane routine of going from my studio--to the library to do my PhD work-- to school-- and head back home late at night--only to do it all over again Monday through Thursday, with no real human contact or touch--gets depressing quick.

I had promised myself that this semester I was going to focus on three things: myself, my relationship with my partner, and grind hard in school so that I can get back to my life in Cali A.S.A.P. I know that I also wanted to make sure to not feel alone or isolated, so I had even printed out lots of photos of my family and friends and activist artwork to post up on my desk, so that I could be reminded of who, what, and why I’m doing this whole shit for. I had bought some “self-help” and inspiring memoirs of authors and artists I admire and was curious about. I even bought myself new crystals, stones, and pendants to protect myself from any and all negative energy.

But let me tell you something--despite my new stones, new war paint (i.e. make up), and rebozo, it was not enough for me.

And I’m sure a lot of Students of Color--especially graduate students of color-- in predominantly white and conservative departments and universities feel this way-- but damn Gina! This whole art of self-care and self-love is a whole lotta work that doesn’t give you instant gratification.

In case you were wondering what books I bought... here they are:

The Diary of Frida Kahlo

And as the week progressed, every time I stepped near the people I had to be around with at school or look at the amount of work that was ahead of me (low key I’m taking 5 graduate courses this semester, YIKES) my energy and spirit was depleting. I was already in the hunt to find a therapist/psychologist of color (which my God, is a fucking job in and of itself- can we, at a later point, talk about why getting social services is so fucking difficult!?), I was starting to feel quite emotionally clogged.

I am thankful for the fact that I am part of (what I call) the “Playboy” working group, which is a collective of People of Color who are PhD graduate students at CUNY (City University of New York) that informally meet on Wednesdays at the Graduate Center Library, because it’s the only thing I really look forward to during the week. As I was eating lunch with one of my homies (which I will keep anonymous), I was really touched but also taken aback by his ability to truly see me. I’m not sure whether it was conscious or coincidental (I mean he is a fucking PhD student in Social Work and he’s legit! lol), or if he could feel my energy, but he asked me a simple question, “Yo, you good?”

With that simple but genuine ask, I could feel my heart sink, and a knot in my throat form. But of course, we’re in this big cafeteria, and another one of our homies was grabbing a plate for food, so I didn’t feel comfortable letting it all out--although, I must admit, my tears were about to start flooding. But I let him know that I just felt isolated and alone. And that although I had some folks here in NY who I know care about me, I just can’t seem to fully connect with them, so I had a lot of feelings of guilt. I don’t want to be or sound like an ungrateful bishhh yaddamean? But I just kind of finally said it out loud. He gave me some encouraging words of support and later text me this response to a text I had sent him later that day:

The context of this text made me feel better. And I think the key thing that I took not only of his message, but of this week, was that just like friends come and go in seasons, so do the emotions that transpire throughout your journey. As the week progressed, I found out that the Graduate Center offers 4-14 free counseling sessions and then do the legwork to refer you out. So you know yo girl signed up for intake and should be hearing back from them this upcoming week to begin my journey in seeking mental/emotional health support. I am feeling hopeful, but don’t mean you couldn’t catch me crying a bit last night before I went to sleep! Healing is not linear ya’ll, but there is only onwards in terms of where me move. Stay blessed ya’ll. We out here!

SIDE NOTE! Can I say, Creator and Creatress had my back because low and behold, one of my former mentees/students/homies from California that I had met in Berkeley, came to surprise visit me with his girl (also a good friend of mine) this weekend. Just being in their presence hella uplifted my spirits and for that I am extremely grateful. Hoping that shit carries me strong through this upcoming week! Ometeotl!

Me, Jesse a.k.a “Introspect,” and his beautiful partner Veronica at Red Roosters in Black Harlem, 2018.

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