Tumgik
#It's just been a long long life
edwardallenpoe · 1 month
Text
being young, black and queer (particularly butch and lesbian) online (but Tumblr specifically) is like rummaging and searching for somewhere you're fully welcome and seen but only finding places that accept parts of your identity or the places that were there that fully accepted you have been quiet and abandoned long before you even came along. You go on blogs that say they welcome queer black people or people who have weird identities but they never talk about the things that affect you or (even unkowingly) shut you down when you bring it up. You find blogs that say they accept queer black people or people who have weird identities but they're making blogs targeting and harassing transfems. You find blogs that say they accept queer black people or people with weird identities but their blog isn't safe for minors. You find blogs that say they accept queer black people or people who have weird identities and the person who runs the blog is queer and black but the last update was 2016. It's incredibly lonely.
4 notes · View notes
wasabi-gumdrop · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6
28K notes · View notes
bigfatbreak · 2 months
Text
Birds of a Feather previous / next
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
#my art#feralnette au#birds of a feather#long tags#sorry I went apeshit in the tags#LETS SAY IT ALL TOGETHER NOW#I - M - A - G - OOOOOOOOO#its fun drawing marinette's back to Alya and having her appear stout and unstoppable and totally logical#and then you see her face and she's like two seconds from completely snapping and is keeping it together by a thread#as a note just because mari feels very certainly abt smth doesnt mean she's right. feelings can be valid and also irrational#in the throes of grief she decided it was better to be alone than to lose someone again so she started pulling away#and lila made pulling away very very very easy to do#shes also vaguely aware she's being unfair in pinning this on alya which is why she started spinning the drain on cockmoth again#legitimately all the shit that's happened to her wouldn't have been so catastrophic if he was never in the picture and she knows it#but the bitterness of her bestie choosing a fantastic liar over her at the worst of times stiiiiiings#alya's personal timing was bad but lila really took advantage of the fact that marinette had been acting off and weird#she basically clocked marinette as being unstable from SOMETHING and made up a lie about her#knowing she wouldn't have the strength to defend herself#between her social life going tachy bc of lila and losing fu in a way that felt like personhood death marinette was really put on the spot#and alya doing her thing of busting in there and assuming her bias is correct was a terrible combo#essentially marinette is highly unstable and alya is just realizing that#busting in and giving her a lecture when she's slightly hysterical and definitely delirious from exhaustion is NOT the way#to show her she's self sabotaging#cuz thats just gonna make her double down on self sabotaging. bc marinette will not accept that she is also a CHIIIIILD
4K notes · View notes
inkskinned · 8 months
Text
the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
10K notes · View notes
astearisms · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started
10K notes · View notes
obsob · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
bedtime story with my love !!
4K notes · View notes
pangur-and-grim · 15 days
Text
ended up being 11 hours at the emergency clinic. I have a pro strat of biting the inside of my mouth to stop myself from crying, but 11 hours straight of that has left it a bit shredded
1K notes · View notes
suiheisen · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
you think YOU had a bad day at work?
bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera
2K notes · View notes
petricorah · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]
2K notes · View notes
wasyago · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
the brainrot won
4K notes · View notes
lotus-pear · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
bsd rewatch w my friend means obligatory art of my fav found family ever
1K notes · View notes
egophiliac · 7 months
Note
I got a really tough question.
What’s your favorite Twst event of ALL TIME?
I like Harveston
this truly is the hardest question. :( but after much consideration, I think Endless Halloween Night wins out for me, because it's nonstop Characters Being Silly the whole way through. the whole thing is just lots of these little dorks having the most ridiculous interactions, which is always my favorite! and of course the big twist is SO delightfully stupid and doubles down SO hard that it becomes AMAZING and I 100% unironically adore it. AND it's Halloween! everyone is in their cute little costumes and having a spooky adventure! it's great!
however, I am ALSO a big fan of the Harveston event! how can I not be! everyone is wearing comfy winter outfits and getting along really weirdly well with Epel's grandma and he's getting a little worried about that! my terrible loud son sews a plush squirrel and then gives it a silly little nickname and refuses to leave it behind when it breaks! the ending shot with the sled! I LOVE IT.
obviously we need the best of both worlds now
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
genderqueerpond · 1 month
Text
We don't talk enough about the fact that Amelia Pond, s5 Amelia Pond, before the timeline is reset, isn't just a normal orphan. Her parents didn't die, didn't abandon her, and didn't send her away. They never existed in the first place.
And if her parents never existed, then Amelia cannot exist. She is a causal impossibility.
"People fall out of the world sometimes, but they always leave traces." A photograph. A face carved into an apple. Yes. Sure.
A child.
Now that's too big, surely.
But that's what she is. She is exactly the same as these things. A trace. An echo of something that could never be, never was, never could have been.
And the universe should never allow it. A whole person, that's just too much. She could not have continued to exist indefinitely, in normal circumstances, after her parents never existed.
In normal circumstances.
Because the Doctor didn't just save her from things coming out of the crack in her wall. He saved her from going into it. And he didn't just save her from the threat of going into it simply because of its vicinity.
No, by arriving when he did, he interrupted a process that was probably already in motion. And then by arriving again only moments later on a cosmic relative timestream (too quickly for the process to complete) and yet in the local relative timestream, years later --- years of a potential future caught midway through the process of rewriting -- he solidified that existence. Amy is a creature from another timeline, caught in amber. The Doctor prevented her from never existing, but only after she could already never exist.
And so, no one around Amelia thinks about it. Neither does she. There's some kind of consciousness block, because if you thought about it, really thought about it, for two seconds you'd realize she cannot exist. And the human mind can't deal with that. So, to protect itself, everyone's brain simply slides off it before ever noticing. They just assume that her existence makes sense, and don't question it, and don't notice what they don't question, that is staring them in the face.
But of course, to some extent they do notice. They can't think it, but they notice subconsciously that there's something they can't think. They notice there's something wrong with her, something uncanny. And they don't like it, and they alienate her even more because of it.
"Does it ever bother you Pond that your life existence doesn't make any sense?"
650 notes · View notes
lucabyte · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
Not all who wander are lost. Some who wander, however, are extremely, extremely lost.
875 notes · View notes
tubbytarchia · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
gg buddy am I right (ethubs doodle that I don't know what to do with)
707 notes · View notes
applestruda · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Collateral Damage
4K notes · View notes