#I'm dropping everything for it

[soubi122]

I can't breathe.... Oh my sweet baby Cthulhu.... I'm dropping every penny, every dime, my soul for him! ❤️😍❤️😍❤️😍❤️😍😍❤️

My overies exploded....

[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.

[spellboundcities]

can anyone hear me

original v

[zzzx009]

beast skk question mark

BEAST SKK!!! >:)

with possessive boss dazai (*/ω＼*)

[tapakah0]

Ep 6. [This is in the past, remember, I'll fix everything] | pt 2 Previous episode Masterpost

I said I want to make the story short. So, it's already half way through...

[tea-cat-arts]

A series of mxtx couples as silly little creature designs for my shop. I had a lot of fun making these ^w^

[booasaur]

Vigil - 2x06

[nehoteika]

it's strange, knowing now who it was this whole time...

[saiscribbles]

You know what? Fuck you.

[does your shitty humor better than you]

[epickiya722]

You folks think Horikoshi watched 'The Little Mermaid'? Because the way Toga is posed over Uraraka while saving her life reminds me of how Ariel is posed over Eric, singing to him after saving his life.

Look at this and tell me otherwise!

It just gives the same vibes!

[userscully]

DOCTOR WHO 9.11 | Heaven Sent (November 28, 2015)

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance - Symphony of Sorcery

[sysig]

Okay but TSP/Portal crossover AU is such a cool concept, how have I never thought about that before?? I'd like to request Narra and GLaD hanging out watching their respective little guys go through tests like 'can you believe them they're so dumb <3'

Day 30 - They're absolute hellions

Bonus:

Noooo, my bucket!!

[lyxchen]

I feel like I'm being just a little bit rude to all the actors and movie makers at the baftas because I keep going on tumblr when they present an award but as soon as David Tennant appears on screen I throw my phone to the side to give him my full attention.. but also yes I am only watching this for him so I don't feel That bad

[freakartack]

SPITZ NOTES

Lifelong struggles with dental alignment. His overbite haunts him to this day.

Also note the glasses allowing him to see with his eyes. He doesn't wear those anymore

Despite his appearance was active in many school sports including football basketball and field hockey. He hated every single one of them and he is only able to reconcile with the nightmare that was basketball through the healing powers of Jimmy T

This is because of his Dad who, in spite of their feline nature, refused to raise a pussy. Unfortunately, despite his desperate attempts there was nothing Spitz could ever do in order to convince his Dad that he wasn't one. Dad's impossible standards continued to be unmet up until his death

And yeah Spitz was an only child. He was too young to remember his late mother, leaving the hardass tendencies of his dad unchecked

Obviously, he did not have a good time in school. Being the weak link in every sports team did not exactly leave him well-liked. He didn't go to school with Dribble (too many years apart), but one of his most relentless detractors was in fact another bulldog. Funny how things work out like that!

He's been a sci-fi nerd his whole life but he's always guarded that secret fiercely up until very recently through his friendship with Dribble. Given how many decades it took for him to open up to exactly one person about...checks notes...reading books, you can imagine how many people he's told about the rest of his childhood. Dribble, for the record, has never even considered the possibility that a cat and dog might not get along

[mozzaremi]