#WHAT HAPPENED TO U

[maester-of-spreadsheets]

Okay so Poland’s entry for Eurovision 2024 is shaping up to be my “this is great you’re just MEAN” song of this year’s contest.

But it also has me wanting to brush up on making fanvids (something I haven’t done since the first Obama administration) bc. Like. This song is about Jin Guangyao right? Like. Like who else could it be about????

(Let’s ignore he didn’t build the literal tower(s) in the show adaptation. )

[princsstwilightsparkl]

people who put really specific and completely unproblematic ship shippers in their fucking dnis are so funny to me, like what do you have against those little lesbians ?? does this mf have twipie trauma ?? what did they do to u

[emokoala]

mr pancake before leaving the house

mr pancake after leaving the house

[starzzyeyed]

I DEMAND TO KNOW ABOUT PEE PEE BOY !!!!!!!!!!!!!

-rattie

There’s a boy

Who needs to pee

[gothcleats]

once again thinking abt the throwaway lines WAYYY too much (cw for grooming, implications of SA)

so. u know when scary flashesback to a 12 year old. and like it’s haha funny and haha sad because she’s obviously a lot happier but listening thru the first time i was like “hmmm this sounds weird” and it didn’t rlly click till now

the whole. “i’ll do ANYTHING you want” paired with “i’m not a minor i live for major fun” gives me some big ole. What Happened To This Girl vibes (even said in the context of haha family guy joke)

i was not a victim of grooming but i know. way too many people who were. and it’s never them telling me “oh this one time” or “this one person” it’s always namedrops of multiple people

i’m just. what if willy is comforting to her not only because of the whole need-for-fatherly-validation and how alike he is to her own distant father and her modeling herself after him what if in the short span of time leading up to season 2 beginning scary was going thru the kik pipeline (or whatever the 2050s equivalent to kik exists)

[gailynovelry]

Google docs will tell me that "clammily" needs to be corrected to "clamily" and when I confusedly comply it then underlines "clamily" in red and tells me that it's not a real word.

Friend. What has gone wrong with your programming.

[aliengirl]

i lose my shit when she just ran away and appeared completely naked on top of a fucking montain

[hattersarts]

im already at the south downs cottage guys, catch up

[beeabart]

the sillies

[bacchuschucklefuck]

summer of junior year 06/11

[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.

[nerdpoe]

Jason ends up in a fight in some town called Amity Park. He's partnering up with the local hero called Phantom.

It's against some ghost called Skulker, and he and Phantom are hiding behind a building while they regroup and take a moment to catch their metaphorical breath.

"I don't see any civvies around. You?" Phantom whispers, head invisible as he looks around the corner.

"Guess it's just us dead tonight," Jason deadpans (hah), loading his gun and checking to make sure there's no damages that would impact his ability to fire it accurately.

Suddenly Phantom is there, looking intense and serious in a way he never was in that fight, glowing eyes staring through Jason.

Taking him in.

"No," Phantom sighs, leaning away from a very spooked Jason and going back to fiddling with a thermos. "You aren't dead. You're alive, undeniably and in a way most people aren't."

Before Jason can ask what the fuck that's supposed to mean, a laser blast almost catches him in the leg.

He shelved it; both his questions and the weird fuzzy feeling that felt like relief at someone else telling him he was alive.

It felt like a weird vindication, but he never got that feeling when anyone else tried to tell him he was alive.

He'd parse it later; there was an ass to kick.

[dandyshucks]

being in love with a fictional character will make u produce art u didnt know u were capable of

~

[if ur part of the "fiction doesnt affect reality" crowd: please fuck off lol]

[charlie-boyfriend]

IM SO EXCITED

[cj-the-random-artist]

Here's a Cult of the Lamb comic that I scripted on a whim and then spent. Actual time on.

I hope y'all like this cuz it was fun to make and. I spent actual time on it lmfao

(Also for the "brought Narinder back" line. I started a new save and I swear between my two saves he's died three times. This guy. Goodness gracious.)