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#this is a post huh.
orchidbreezefc · 6 months
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i made a variant of [link: two cakes] to illustrate a related principle
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golyadkin · 7 months
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Sons Of The Labyrinth or The Things Our Fathers Do To Us
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humming-fly · 1 year
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Every now and then I'm reminded Real People with Actual Jobs use tumblr and I've always been legitimately curious what all you weird adults are up to when you're not on this site and with tumblr's New Poll Feature I can finally get an answer! (or the closest approximation of an answer possible with only 10 available options h a)
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manhattan-gamestop · 5 months
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Out of curiosity rb and put in the tags how many fics come up when you type your last name into ao3. Apparently even though my last name is uncommon there's like 500
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transmonstera · 4 months
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BE UNPALATABLE / SHOW YOUR TEETH
[IMAGE ID: "changing your taste for the cissexuals' palate is to sacrifice your own tongue" in black text. there are wolves on either side of the text with a black border and white background. black stars and trans symbols decorate the image. END]
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sanzundertale · 8 months
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babygirl i will invent stages of grief you have never seen before
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razzafrazzle · 7 months
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i was obsessed with them when i was 8 and i am still obsessed with them now
[image description: a page of drawings of marceline and simon from adventure time. on the left is marcy wearing a white cropped sweater, a short black skirt, red tights, black fingerless gloves, and black boots. there is a caption that says "Average Bisexual" next to her. next to that is a short comic of marcy and simon, where marcy is floating over simon as he reads a book. marcy asks, "hey simon. ever kiss another man before?", to which simon replies "well sure." below them there is a caption that says, "he then failed to elaborate." next to that is a drawing of simon with his hands clasped together, with a smaller, uncolored sketch of simon looking surprised above him. the entire page is colored in a watercolor style. end id]
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inkskinned · 6 months
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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.''
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bitterly-almond · 2 months
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[inspired by that lovely painting of @_K0TTERl_ on twitter (creator of "Veil" manga)]
They're such a rarepair lol but once I saw the vision I cannot go back.
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gayvampyr · 1 year
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let me change into something more comfortable *turns into a beast*
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shatouto · 4 months
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両片思い
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kyasunn · 5 months
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Week 4 is my favourite so far. The Mounders dipping the second their secret hits. Grian: The Musical. Opposite day Scar. Etho horsegirl and AH-HA combo. Not even mentioning whatever is going on with Clifford the big red dogs.
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breegadey · 1 month
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some people don't seem to get that "hold your vote hostage to push joe biden to stop doing genocide" is literally about what is happening right now and not a direct determinant of what is going to happen next november. people are not saying this as they are walking into the polls to cast their vote on a ballot with joe biden and donald trump on it.
like idk if it's just gauche to say this out loud because it gives the game away but the thing is you don't even have to believe it when you say you're not voting for him because it's a fucking bluff!!!!! it's a game of chicken and you lost before the first fucking round!!! it's about who will blink first and who needs it more: are elected officials / the DNC more committed to doing genocide than their constituents (whom they need for reelection) are to stopping that genocide from happening. do they want the genocide more or do they want reelection. all you need to do is hold the fucking line and wait for an 81-year-old man or a bunch of spineless bureaucrats in the DNC to blink and y'all couldn't even do that, you have to say with every single breath no way no how you have my vote no matter what you do no matter how many children you kill. worst fucking poker players on the planet
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radiance1 · 3 months
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Damian: [brushing his teeth]
The shadow hanging over his shoulder: [Gets its teeth dangerously close to Damian's shoulder]
Damian: [Shoves a toothbrush into said shadow move and starts brush]
The shadow: [Pauses before starting to let out a contented purr]
Damian then spits out the foam and washes out his mouth, then makes the shadow do the same and then picks out pjs.
Damian: [Currently decided if he should go with the cat, dog, or knife imprinted one]
The shadow: [Starts getting dangerously close to Damian with, toxic green spirals it calls eyes]
Damian: [Throws the dog imprinted one behind him at the shadow and takes the cat imprinted one for himself and tells the shadow to put it on]
The shadow: [Stares at the clothes before hesitantly putting them on before letting out a noise of distress]
Damian: [Turning around to find the shadow somehow stuck in the pjs, lets out a sigh, then starts to help them fit]
Damian then moves over to the bed, he points to one side and tells the shadow to go there. The shadow listens, laying down as Damian also lays down, grabbing the sheets and covering them both.
It barely took a few seconds for the shadow to fall asleep, and Damian stared at it. Damian wasn't quite sure why the shadow of his dead twin was following him, nor why it was even able to and seemed to hide itself from anyone who isn't Damian.
Nobody besides him knew about it, and Damian decided that he liked it. This could have been his younger brother, if the other had survived, and they would have probably been told to fight to the death to decide an heir.
At the very least, that won't ever happen.
Even if his brother was slightly unusual.
===
Danny did not remember much of the before, he remembered people with blurred faces and features, blurred colors. He remembered a lot of colors, then red, then white, then pain.
He doesn't like pain, he believes.
Then he remembered going to sleep, and then he woke up. It was dark and slimy and cramped when he woke up, especially when he realized someone else was in their with him.
Then he fell asleep again, then woke up to that same dark and slimy place, then fell asleep again, all in some weird cycle. Then, moving, and pain.
It hurt, and he was sluggish when it eventually stopped. Then came pain again, and he was asleep.
Then he woke up, again.
He didn't know what was happening, wasn't really aware of too. But he woke up next to the other who was in that dark and slimy with him, and decided he wanted to stay with them.
He wasn't aware enough for most of the things that happened when Damian grew up, but he still stayed regardless, and hide from everyone else.
Danny loves his brother, and he thinks his brother loves him too. Even if he was slightly unusual.
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raccoonpog · 3 months
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I will remember
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