#‘I think we need to see a doctor’

[marcobodtlives]

RIP Marco and Armin, they would’ve had the best shell and shiny rock collection from the beach.

[inkskinned]

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.

[themathomhouse]

this disability pride month, stop making jokes about people in wheelchairs standing up or walking.

can I stand and walk? sure, for a short while and with pain. the consequences for trying to be out all day without a wheelchair are that I'll be in bed for the rest of the week, too tired and in too much pain to move.

but the government won't give me my own wheelchair because they have the same attitude as these jokes - I can stand up, so I don't need one. exercise is good for you, you should walk!

it keeps me trapped in the house, unable to do anything more than short stints anywhere without borrowing or hiring a wheelchair - one that causes me pain to sit in and relies on someone to push me (usually with difficulty), because they're not going to have a high-end chair for that sort of thing.

it's not a miracle that a wheelchair user can stand or walk. it's something we should aspire to see more often.

[chiropteracupola]

granby + iskierka + keynes

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

first batch of outfit requests ft. creepy Wallyes! Wallyies. Wallys. Wallies. Wally²

plague doctor for @darling-w, and Eyes for @currently-i-am-hyperfixating <3<3

[edge-oftheworld]

real talk though how much of their success was facilitated by the fact liz hemmings sees 'child with adhd' and thinks 'future world renowned musician' and just invested so much love and time and money into nurturing not only her own child's ambitions but also these two kids he brought home from school and the table drummer from her year 9 math class of 2009

[quarks-pussy]

So I know we here at Startrekfandom love that "came back wrong but from the pov of the wrong" thing and apply it to many different characters and canon situations and I am far from trying to complain about it (I'm "came out wrong" trope myself so I was always gonna obsess over it) but having recently watched a very important episode (you'll know which one) for the first time I think there's a character who hits both tropes mentioned but llike, intertwined, opposite and subverted, and whom I wanna talk about.

Julian Bashir.

From his parents' pov he's "came out wrong but we got him help and he came back better" while from his own pov it's "came out 'insufficient', was destroyed for it, came back wrong and only later slowly came to terms with his new self tho never the process (justifiably so)" and it's heartbreaking because in a way, he's right! Jules Bashir died! His parents had an intellectually disabled child and decided to eugenics him! Julian is not the person he used to be and while I do love the person he is now, that doesn't bring back who he was! Part of me wishes we could've gotten to see Jules at least once and part of me hopes we never do because my heart would shatter.

This isn't a good comparison but nonetheless one I can't help drawing: it's giving similar vibes to anti-vaxxers. "I'd rather risk having a child who is dead than one who's autistic". Obviously this doesn't map over since Julian is still autistic and the procedure his parents subjected him to specifically targeted his intellectual disability and if any folks with id wanna comment on this I definitely recommend you listen to them over me, but it's a similarity I, as an autistic who has encountered anti-vaxxers again and again, can't help but point out. "Give me a normal child or give them death."

This may have been written about already but there needs to be stories about teenage Julian (after finding out and rediscovering who he was) practicing some good ol' recognition of the self through media. I need to hear about how he would encounter a story about someone who came back wrong (I'm gonna assume there's plenty of "wrong" pov stories floating around by the 24th century) and absolutely weep. I need to see Julian mourning Jules, taking years and years to process his feelings, experiencing guilt about how he, the imposter, didn't deserve to live Jules' life.

Came back wrong from the returned's pov but it wasn't an accident. It was done to you deliberately by the people who claim to love you. And now you are here, piloting the corpse of your predecessor.

Jules Bashir is dead. Long live Julian Bashir.

[moreaugriffins]

Every day i just want to write a post that just says "The Brigadier is so damn autistic."

but I then worry about what other people might say if I do that

but fuck it

The Brigadier is so fucking autistic, and nobody can change my mind

[whentherewerebicycles]

everything is still so good!!! heartbeat is super fast and strong and is now firmly in the upper band of healthy/normal. behold the little seahorse (now less seahorse-y because its tail is almost gone) floating around in there attached to its little yolk sac inner tube!!

[vibingforjudaism]

I need a therapist who I can argue with and who will give me jewish advice ....a rabbi. I need a rabbi

[geronimomo-spd]

the artists who draw their Doctors in sweatshirts and sweatpants chilling out, understand them on such a spiritual level its unreal. like that is a person who won't ever chill for their entire life, but they do!! and you also know what silly word/frase they will have on there!! its hard to explain, but you so get it

[msue0027]

Martha Jones - Jesus Christ parallels (never thought i'd write a sentence like this)

there's the other one who has sent me

For I did not speak on my own, but the Father who sent me commanded me to say all that I have spoken. I know that his command leads to eternal life. So whatever I say is just what the Father has told me to say. (John 12:49-50)

Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life. (John 5:24)

I judge only as I hear, and my judgment is just, for I seek not to please myself but him who sent me. (John 5:30b)

I have much to say in judgment of you. But he who sent me is trustworthy, and what I have heard from him I tell the world. They did not understand that he was telling them about his Father. So Jesus said, “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he and that I do nothing on my own but speak just what the Father has taught me. The one who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what pleases him. (John 8:26-29)

[...] for I have come here from God. I have not come on my own; God sent me. (John 8:42b)

etc., and so on...

[buildoblivionthenwewilltalk]

four to doomsday is a funny serial because it’s objectively kinda dull but it’s so SO good at showing us what makes fivey and his friends tick

[doctorwhoisadhd]

there are many ways nardole interacting with the torchwood team could potentially go but i think in every timeline owen would be so mad about who in the team nardole has sex with. including in any situation where nardole has Only fucked owen he would still find a way to be mad about it

[irn-bru]

I love how even though she might stomp her feet a bit and complain, donna will never let the doctor take on a burden alone. at the end of the day, it's the one who will push that lever with you without hesitation

[aq2003]

the diehard clara hater/lover quiz is fun because some of the lover descriptions feel like they're describing the most toxic evil person on planet earth and it's like guys i think we have all forgotten the fact that canonically she is twelve's one tie to earth and has to remind him of how to care about people. and like she dies in a doctor-esque sacrifice to save someone. she just reflects the worst qualities of the doctor she is not an evil possessive selfish girlboss woman. i do wish she was more awful though i think it would be funny to have a sole companion like that making the doctor worse