#brown tabby girl representation

[pigeonleap]

This freakinator... (lightleap)

[munku-collar]

have you found any irl cat pictures that you think accurately fit the characters? im esp curious about demeter because ive noticed in fandom art her design is one of the ones that varies the most

Demeter is definitely a calico! It's the closest color combination to her show look and sometimes you're lucky enough to find one that almost has the same pattern like this one. It just makes sense to me, I've always seen her like that. Plus she's not very large.

Macavity, Munkustrap and Rum Tum Tugger are maine coon + tabby mixes with differing haircuts/different distribution of genes, as Old Deut is a maine coon and Grizabella is a tabby. Munk got more of the tabby genes than his brother (hence his lack of mane & being the shortest by TWO INCHES of the three) but yeah. Mac also has a bit of brown in his fur, particularly on his torso and legs, but Tugger is pretty standard lmao.

So Jemima and Sillabub have quite a few breeds in their mix :) Jem is more sleek/less fluffy like a calico but otherwise the first kitten here reminds me of her. Sillabub does have more of the fluffiness and her coloring is lighter/has more of Dem's yellow than Jem's so the second kitten here is somewhat similar. Deme's short genes won out though, neither of these girls will get very large haha

Also something of interest: Sillabub's fur was a lot more gray when she was born, like she looked more like Munk, but when she started growing it changed a little more into what it is now. Jemima's fur coloring was always a unique mix of Deme and Mac. It's like Deme's black dyed Mac's red into a burgundy lol

So I guess it's hard to find a 'perfect' representation for the most part. But here's an attempt to describe the vibes lmao

[chanelslibrary]

🌙𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰🌙

Black Girls Must Die Exhausted by Jayne Allen

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

Tabitha Walker has just had an unexpected diagnosis…her window to have kids is closing! Now it’s up to Tabby to balance her relationship with boyfriend, Mark, and her up coming promotion at the news station with her strained relationship with her father all while deciding if now is the time to have a child! Tabby’s grandmother is right… “Black girls must die exhausted!”

This book was so authentic to how Black women, and women in general, are feeling! Tabby and her girlfriends felt like my friends. I know a book (or audiobook) is good when I can’t put it down, and I couldn’t wait to hear what was going to happen next in this story. The humor and authenticity just radiates through this story!

Read if you love:

🙋🏾‍♀️Character driven plot

✊🏽Black/Brown representation

💗Contemporary Romance

👯‍♀️Platonic love

👨‍👩‍👧‍👧Blended family/Familial love

CW/TW:

•Infertility/miscarriage

•Suicide attempt

•Gun violence

•Grief/death

•Racism

•Sexism

•Alcoholism

[mary-whoisleft]

GENERAL INFORMATION ➤

Full Legal Name: Mary Aileene Macdonald Nickname(s): Mare (most of her friends when two syllables is just too much), Shortie (her dad and her sister, despite the fact that the two girls are the same height), Mac (her Quidditch teammates) Age: 18 Gender & Pronouns: cisgender female, she/her Sexuality: Straight and easily distracted by cute, tall boys. As much as she might like kissing them, though, she’s afraid she will never be good at being in a relationship. Once she gets close enough with someone to feel something for them, she gets too afraid that dating them will mean losing them one day. And she can’t stand to think about losing the ones that matter to her. Date of Birth: September 30, 1960 Horoscope: Libra Hogwarts House: Gryffindor Nationality: Scottish, as is clear by her very thick accent that she makes no effort to reign in Occupation: After graduation, Mary will further delay making a decision about her future. Through the war, she will be a bartender at a somewhat seedy but usually lively pub. After the dust settles, though, she will get her dream job at a magical animal sanctuary. Summarized in One Word: Survivor

APPEARANCE ➤

Faceclaim: Kat Graham Height: 5′1″ Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Brown Noticeable Features: An infectious smile and a room filling laugh. A tattoo she got over the summer of the Loch Ness Monster on her hip. Typical Outfit or General Fashion Sense: high-waisted jeans and crops tops, an abundance of band t-shirts even for ones she’s never seen, party dresses with short flippy skirts and bright designs, the obligatory school uniform that she pushes as close to an infraction as she can

HISTORY ➤

Hometown: Mary is from Portree, Scotland, the largest town on the Isle of Skye, surrounded by hills and overlooking a bay. She loves it with all of her heart, and sometimes imagines that returning home would be some kind of magic fix to many of her problems. After graduation, though, a rational part of her knows that’s not true and doesn’t want to risk bringing her troubles back to her idyllic home. She settles down in a small flat in London instead. Financial Status: middle class Spoken Languages: Only English fluently, but she also has learned bits and pieces of Scottish Gaelic and Hebrew from her parents. Bad Habits: She has trouble reigning in her cursing, and often feels bad for letting out a storm or curses in front of the new first years. She tends to doodle on all of her notes when she’s bored in class, though she’s been trying to be better at that in light of her attempts to actually pass NEWTs. She gets over excited and talks with her hands a lot, which normally is fine but has been known to knock over cups of alcohol that have been set too close to her.

FAMILY BACKGROUND ➤

Mother: Katherine, an English teacher and loving mother who does her best to keep the calm in a somewhat wild household Father: Niall, a fisherman who gave Mary his boisterous laugh and his love of music Sibling(s): Lydia, her older sister who is a free spirit traipsing the globe, and Alfie, her younger brother, who she would do anything to protect Pet(s): an orange tabby cat name Nutmeg Grandparent(s):  Her paternal grandparents both died when she was younger, but her maternal grandparents live in a small town in the Highlands. They don’t see them much outside of holidays, but Katherine and her mother seem to talk on the phone every day. Cousin(s): A few cousins on both sides of the family. Katherine and Niall were both the oldest siblings, so the Macdonald children are the oldest of the bunch.

MAGICAL ABILITIES ➤

Wand: Black Walnut with Unicorn hair, 9 3/4 in, springy Patronus: Mary has yet to be able to cast a corporal Patronus, but when she is able to it will take the form of a Husky. To cast it, she thinks of a warm summer night her and her fellow Gryffindor friends spent at the beach. She can’t remember a single thing they talked about, but she remembers the laughter that rang out between them and how comfortable it felt when they were all cuddled up around the fire, and that is enough. Boggart: Mary’s boggart still takes the form of Mulciber. Not because he is what she fears most, but he is a good representation of it. The lose of control she felt the night of the attack, the feeling of being unwanted in a world she thought she could call hers, the fear that something worse could always be waiting around the next corner. OWLS: Mary had taken the OWLs for Astronomy, Charms, DADA, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and Transfiguration. She got a few Es, and a couple As that left her talking her way into the class for her sixth year. The only one she failed was Potions. What Kind of Magic do They Excel at: Mary is best as practical, instinctual magic. She’s always done well in DADA because she can think on her feet and trust her cut in fast paced situations. More complex, theoretical magic, like Transfiguration, was always harder for her to grasp.

PSYCHOLOGY ➤

MB Type: Entertainer - ESFP-T Entertainers love the spotlight, and all the world’s a stage. Utterly social, Entertainers enjoy the simplest things, and there’s no greater joy for them than just having fun with a good group of friends. Though it may not always seem like it, Entertainers know that it’s not all about them – they are observant, and very sensitive to others’ emotions. People with this personality type are often the first to help someone talk out a challenging problem, happily providing emotional support and practical advice. However, if the problem is about them, Entertainers are more likely to avoid a conflict altogether than to address it head-on. Entertainers are welcome wherever there’s a need for laughter, playfulness, and a volunteer to try something new and fun – and there’s no greater joy for Entertainer personalities than to bring everyone else along for the ride.

Enneagram: Type 2 - 64% Match Type 2 can be described as The Giver. Twos want to be liked and find ways that they can be helpful to others so that they can belong.

Type 9 - 61% Match Type 9 is also called The Peacemaker. Nines like to keep a low profile and let the people around them set the agenda.

Type 7 - 54% Match Type 7 is described as The Enthusiast. Sevens want to have as much fun and adventure as possible and are easily bored.

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good A chaotic good character acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what others expect of him. He makes his own way, but he's kind and benevolent. He believes in goodness and right but has little use for laws and regulations. He hates it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. He follows his own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society. Chaotic good is the best alignment you can be because it combines a good heart with a free spirit. However, chaotic good can be a dangerous alignment when it disrupts the order of society and punishes those who do well for themselves.

Archetype: 53% Caregiver Friendly, sincere, and compassionate, the Caregiver finds their reward in helping others. No one could ask for a better best friend. 

29% Explorer The Explorer is drawn to the unknown, whether that’s a Himalayan peak or the road not taken, and have a thirst for adventure. They take journeys, not vacations.

18% Athlete The Athlete's focus and drive are unparalleled. Staying healthy and being fit are paramount to them (as for winning, that doesn't hurt, either).

Temperament: Sanguine Sanguine people are boisterous, bubbly, chatty, openly emotional, social extroverts. In our distant past, the sanguine members of the pack might have played a supportive, encouraging, social role. They would have been the glue that kept the group together. In modern society, you might see them as entertainers, singers, dancers, or perhaps simply as the energetic people at parties.

[suburbantimewaster]

This was the scene that was originally going to be the cover for chapter 1 of Mind Games, but public opinion felt that the scene where Marino and Patel are contacting their families would be better.  Nevertheless, ForeverMedhok already started working on it and I already paid for it. So I have two drawings for chapter 1.

Patel walked through the open doors, greeted to the sound of loud pulses accompanied by a light buzzing ringing through their quarters.  The design itself was simple, surrounded by the same gray walls found on the station.  There was an orange tabby sleeping in the corner on an unzipped (and as yet unpacked) old-fashioned suitcase, and a fan blowing through the room, making the heat less oppressive.  In the middle of their quarters was a young woman in her late twenties sprawled out on a brown couch reading a Cardassian styled PADD.  Her chestnut brown hair was tied into a ponytail, a few loose tendrils escaping to frame her round yet sunken face with emerald eyes.  In stark contrast with her mustard Starfleet uniform was a necklace with a twentieth-century American quarter worn as a pendant and a flask equipped to her hip.

"Candy?" Patel said, the surprise evident in his voice.

"So, the former Parisses Squares star graces me with his presence," Marino said sardonically, her thick New Jersey accent shining through.

"I guess I deserved that," Patel said with a nervous laugh.  "So, what's with the music?"

"It's Cardassian classical," Marino said nonchalantly.

"Your taste in music certainly has changed," Patel remarked with slight humor.  "I remember when you wouldn't even listen to Earth classical."

"Actually, I never hated classical, I just prefer it as background music," Marino explained.  "When I'm listening to music, I want something I can dance to."

"So, what's this music supposed to be a background for?" Patel asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Marino asked with a condescending tone.  "I'm reading a manuscript on a Cardassian station written by a Cardassian torturer who loved this music and, let me tell you, torturers from all around the galaxy love classical music."  The ensign shrugged her shoulders.  "Don't know why."

"Oh..." Patel said with understanding.  "So, you're trying to get into his head."

"Give the guy a medal, he got it on the first try," Marino said as if she was an announcer for a Parisses Squares tournament.

Patel's lips formed into an amused smile as he walked to the left.

"I already took that room," Marino told him without looking up.

"Couldn't wait until I showed up?" Patel asked, turning to his roommate irritably.

"You snooze, you lose," Marino said unapologetically as she pressed a button on her PADD.  "Besides, you wouldn't have wanted it."

"And why would you think that?" Patel demanded to know, his bags feeling heavier.

"Because that room belonged to the writer of this manuscript," Marino explained to him.  "And one of his favorite pastimes was peeling the skin off of Bajorans as if they were freshly plucked fruit,"

"Are you serious?" Patel said, looking at Marino as if she lost her mind.

"Says so himself right here," Marino said as if she just told Patel that their former occupant loved steak and then spoke rather psychotically, as if she were Ramsay Snow himself.  "'There's nothing more enjoyable­—'"

"Thanks for the offer, but I really don't need to hear it out loud," Patel said, feeling grateful that his medical training kept him from hurling on the carpet.

He turned around the couch and picked up the pace, walking straight ahead to the second room.

"You won't want that room either," Marino told Patel, stopping him in his tracks.

"How do you know which room I'm going to?" Patel asked her challengingly, his shoulders tensing partly out of frustration.

"Because your footsteps are sounding further away from behind me," Marino explained, as if an Gorn would have figured it out.  "And, from the way you're picking up the pace, I can tell that you're getting irritated with something."

"Can you figure out what's irritating me?" Patel asked Marino sarcastically with a hint of anger.

Either Marino couldn't figure out what it was, or she didn't care.

"Why wouldn't I want that room?" Patel asked more solemnly.

"Because that's where our pazzo Gul conducted his experiments," Marino explained with a shrug.  "If you want to take it, I won't stop you."  She added a bit of sarcasm to her voice.  "Just try to forget that Bajorans were having their eyes gouged out in that room and you'll be fine."

Patel went to the right and set his bags near the door.

"Is there any trouble in this room I should know about?" he asked, trying his best to keep calm but still letting some impatience seep through his voice.

"Nope," Marino told him confidently.  "Just the room where the Cardassian Ramsay kept Bajoran women.  It gave them a false sense of security."

"Then it's the least offensive," Patel remarked with a relieved sigh.

He turned around and crossed his arms, leaning on the closed doors.  He found himself puzzled by Marino's behavior.  If Patel had arrived first and found that manuscript, he'd be begging Starfleet for a new assignment, or at least a room change.

Yet here was Marino, the girl who couldn't say Bloody Mary in a bathroom mirror three times, treating finding out that the Cardassian who resided in their room tortured innocent Bajorans as if she won a trip to Casperia Prime.  Despite Patel's horror at Marino's newfound personality, he couldn't help but feel a slight intrigue towards the woman lying on the couch.  So many psychiatrists would kill to be in his position right now.

"Hey, Candy, can I ask you something?" Patel said hesitantly.

"Ask anything you want," Marino told him nonchalantly.  "But that doesn't mean I'll answer."

"All right," Patel said, removing his back from the closed doors.  "Why doesn't anything our former occupant did bother you?"

Marino shrugged.

"Give people power and, more often than not, they'll use it for evil," she said nonchalantly.  "You see it all throughout history, Marquis De Sade, Mengele, Lex Luthor."

"Isn't Lex Luthor a fictional character?" Patel pointed out as if he was explaining to a child that Santa wasn't real.

"Yeah, but he's historically famous for being Superman's arch-nemesis," Marino explained, as if she were oblivious to Patel's tone.  "Superman and Lex Luthor are both fictional representations of powerful people, the former uses it for good and the latter for evil."  Marino's voice turned bitter as the kitten jumped on her skinny stomach.  "Though I'm starting to wonder why I have to explain that to you."

Patel's face fell.  Then he cleared his throat, preparing himself for a long overdue apology.

"Look, Candy," Patel began in a sincere tone as Marino put her PADD down on the nearby night stand.  "About what happened in high school." Patel struggled as his eyes met Marino's.  "I'm really sorry."

"It's in the past," Marino said casually as she pet her kitten.

Patel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"So, what's with the cat?" Patel asked, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from him.

"His name's Shere Khan," Marino said, petting the orange ball of fur as if Patel hadn't spoke.  "His former owners abandoned him, so I took him."  Then adopted a cuter tone as if she were talking to a baby.  "Isn't that right, wittle boy?"

Patel smiled as he heard Shere Khan purr loudly enough to be heard over the fan and the music while Marino stroked his fur, glad that some things about the girl he used to know hadn't changed.  Though he had to admit, Shere Khan was a cute kitten.  Patel walked over to Marino, his hand out to pet Shere Khan, who only scratched and hissed at him, causing Patel to quickly withdraw his hand.

"Yeah, he doesn't like strangers," Marino explained, continuing to pet Shere Khan absentmindedly.

"Now you tell me," Patel said bitterly as he grabbed his bags and headed for the door.

"Tell Cathy I said hi," Marino told Patel's retreating back.

[buriacampaign]

Rosie (the Riveter)

written by Em (objectiveheartmuscle), inspired by a video on Facebook

It started off as a joke, though in hindsight, Rose supposes that she should’ve seen it coming — this was all Christian’s doing, after all.

Technically, she’s off the clock, but midterms don’t care about work schedules, which is why she’s staying late in the monarch apartments for the fifth night in a row. And Christian, of course, doesn’t seem to care about midterms, which would explain why he’s been venting nonstop for the past twenty minutes as if she and Lissa had the time and attention to listen.

“You could get a real job,” Lissa offers as Rose shuffles the stack of flashcards for their upcoming Politics of the European Union test.

“Offensive magic training is a real job,” Christian huffs.

Lissa goes to open her mouth, but Rose, sensing how quickly the conversation could turn, cuts her off, throwing a sidelong look at him and quipping, “If you’re so bored, then they don’t you just get a cat or something? That’ll keep you occupied.” Then, focusing back on her task at hand: “Alright, Liss, which political party has had the largest representation in the European Parliament since nineteen ninety-nine?”

“Party of European Socialists?” she guesses, eyebrows creased together.

“Correct. What was the name of the political event that first raised the idea of a coalition of governments and what was its main purpose?”

Neither notice when Christian quietly slips out of the room.

After midterms are official visits to the three American academies, followed by deadlines for two group projects and a lengthy paper requiring lots of library time, and capped off with Dimitri whisking Rose off for an impromptu long weekend spent hiking and camping on the Virginia Appalachian Trail. All the while, she somehow manages to be everywhere except Lissa and Christian’s housing for nearly three weeks, something she doesn’t realize until she comes back from Virginia and tries to pin Lissa down for an off-duty girl’s night.

“Maybe in a week or two?” Lissa suggests, sounding uncharacteristically cagy. “Some changes are being made in one of our rooms right now, so the place is kind of a mess.”

“Me? Bothered by a mess?” Rose asks, confused. “Since when?”

Still, Lissa evades. “We could do this weekend at your place?”

Cursing the missing bond while simultaneously deciding not to push the subject, Rose replies, “I’ll see if Dimitri is okay with being kicked out for a day or two. He’ll probably appreciate the excuse to pick up more hours.”

It’s a full month of distractions before Rose’s curiosity gets the better of her. Instead of meeting Lissa in the royal parking garage like she’d been insisting on lately, Rose knocks on Lissa and Christian’s front door ten minutes before Lissa’s usual departure time.

Christian opens the door maybe half a foot, surprise on his face. “Rose? I thought you met Liss—”

“Did you two have a baby or something and not tell me?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest.

His confusion morphs into a knowing smirk. “More like ‘or something’.” He glances behind him at Lissa’s voice. “But it’s not quite time for you to know what that is just yet.”

“Hey,” Lissa says, slipping through the small gap, hoisting her bookbag up on her shoulder. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late for class.”

Ignoring that she was actually ahead of schedule for once, Rose raises her eyebrows at Christian as she leaves, spinning on the ball of her foot to keep eye contact with him as she backs down the corridor. “We’re not done here, Sparky.”

“When are we ever?” he calls back, grinning.

A week later, Rose is finally permitted to resume entering Lissa and Christian’s housing, and the whole time she’s over, revising Lissa’s paper for their economics class, Lissa can’t seem to stop looking towards the spare bedroom.

“There’s nothing in there,” Rose says dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Except Christian doing God knows what.”

“I know.” Lissa turns back to her laptop where Rose knows her own paper is pulled up and getting far less attention than Lissa’s.

“Alright, weirdo,” Rose teases.

She ends up spending the night on the couch, having finished getting through Lissa’s paper far later than she intended and deciding trekking home only to come back a couple hours later wasn’t worth the hassle. Lissa seemed uncertain at certain but finally relented when Christian assured her that it’d be fine.

It’s certainly not fine when Rose is woken by the sound of a tinkling bell followed by a loud mrowww right in her face.

Her eyes shoot open to see a cat sitting on her chest, its face unnervingly close to her own. It mrows again when it recognizes that she’s awake, and dips its head to rub against Rose’s chin, almost as if asking to be pet.

“What the fuck,” she says to no one in particular, frozen in place. She half wished a Strigoi had burst through the window; at least they weren’t covered in nose-tickling fur.

She hears someone pad in, followed by, “Oh good, you’ve met Rosie.”

“I’ve met who?” Peering around the cat, who’s now curled up and laid down on Rose’s chest, she sees Christian, grinning like a maniac.

“Rosie, my cat. Domestic longhair, according to the shelter. I don’t know anything more specific than that.”

“She’s a brown tabby,” Lissa supplies, breezing in. She, too, is grinning, though she looks a smidge more guilty than Christian’s clean conscious expression. “Same as Oscar.”

“What the fuck,” Rose repeats. She looks back at the purring cat. “How do I get this off me?”

Christian grabs a pack of treats that Rose would go to her grave swearing wasn’t there the night previous. “Like this,” he says, opening the pack. Rose watches in amazement as the cat sticks her head up and then jumps off, her back feet using Rose’s solar plexus as a diving board for the floor. And then, so help her God, the cat stands up on its hind legs and spins in a couple of circles for him before he drops the treats to the floor.

“Is this why I was banned from coming over?” Rose asks slowly, still not entirely comprehending what was occurring.

“Yeah.” Christian’s grin hasn’t faded. “I wanted to make sure she could do that before you met her. That’s why I had Belikov drag you out to the mountains a couple weeks ago — I needed to let her start adjusting to the apartment, and you were going to be around all weekend otherwise.”

“And her name is Rosie.”

“Yes.”

“…Why?”

“She’s named after you. This was your idea, after all.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“If I recall correctly, your exact words were ‘if you’re so bored, then why don’t you just get a cat or something’. So I took your advice.”

“I didn’t mean that seriously.”

“Too late.”

Lissa appears from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand, and she takes a sip, looking at Rosie over the ceramic rim. “She goes near you. That’s already better than Oscar ever was.”

“Oscar was the spawn of Satan,” Rose counters. “Nothing could ever have made him like me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable with an aloof creature giving you attention,” Christian mocks. “Last I checked, you and Belikov were still a thing.”

She rolls her eyes, picking cat hair off her shirt. “I don’t like animals, and they usually don’t like me.”

“Usually.” Christian scoops up Rosie, and then in a babying voice while nuzzling the cat’s neck, said, “But we like Aunt Rose, don’t we, Rosie? Yes we do, yes we do.”

Doing her best to ignore Christian, Rose checked the time on her phone and stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “You have a Council meeting in thirty minutes, Your Majesty, so do you want to leave in twenty?”

“We can leave in ten minutes if you want to grab breakfast and get out of here,” Lissa says, reaching to scratch behind one of Rosie’s ears.

“I can be ready in five,” Rose replies, already reaching for the fresh t-shirt in her backpack.

Eventually, Rose and the cat came to an understanding — she wouldn’t do her best to avoid the cat if the cat didn’t demand petting or cuddling or any kind of physical affection.

(The line, however, was drawn at giving her opinion on any one of the sweaters in seemingly endless rotation that Rosie was always dressed in, and when Christian started leash-training the cat to take her on walks, Rose literally walked out of the room so that nobody would hear her frustrated screams at full volume. One Halloween, Christian dressed the cat up as Rosie the Riveter, and Rose was so incensed over how bad the joke was that she refused to talk to him for the rest of the night.)

And unfortunately for Rose, Rosie the cat lived to be a ripe, old 17, and it took all of her acting skills to pretend she was sad at the fifty-person funeral service Christian painstakingly organized, an act that convinced absolutely no one in attendance.