#WHAT IS UP WITH THAT HUH???

[thatoneluckybee]

Okay….. so the infamous “cishet aro men” poll finally appeared on my dash. NATURALLY You’d assume that the vast majority of responses would be Yes, but

Only 50%.

Only 50% of voters said yes. 50% of voters said no, or didn’t want to get involved.

[slitherpunk]

lol. lmao, even

[quirinah]

she dun on my geon till i meshi

[mangozic]

michael shelley I would die for you

[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.

[egophiliac]

innocently logging in to look at the Twst schedule for May like

[averycrimsonrain]

like I'm gonna read svsss eventually but trying to piece together what happens via out of context spoilers on my dashboard is just so entertaining. Things I have learned so far:

The main character straight up dies bc he thinks faking your own death is tacky (it seems like he gets resurrected eventually??)

His love interest is a demon lord/puppy dog who's absolutely insane (sleeps next to a dead body for five years & makes his crush drink his blood???)

I have no idea what Mobei Jun's role in the story is but I know he's the hottest man in the world (& god's specialest little boy)

There are (allegedly) female characters who uhhh. Exist?

The main villain (??) of the story is the author, whose name seems to just be "Airplane"

Today I learned there is a sexy snake man. What wonders shall tomorrow bring

[pencilscratchins]

whats more powerful, the metaphysical force of all space time or two besties with one braincell [ID in alt]

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #27

When Dick's parent's fell, his first thought was, "This can't be happening." His second thought was, "What's going to happen to me and my brother now?"

The answer? His brother was older than him, much older. Old enough that he could stay with the circus. But Dick? Dick couldn't stay with Danny. He was too young.

So Bruce Wayne took him in, offered to take Danny in too. Dick begged his brother to join him, but Danny didn't. He smiled at Dick, ruffled his hair, and told him he'd be waiting at the circus for when Dick returned. Promised to send postcards and letters.

Then he was gone. And Dick never returned to the circus.

[theminecraftbee]

incidentally. every time i see someone speculating about "what if the season ends soon". i know we're safe for the time being and don't have to worry. because tango doesn't understand the idea of "good enough" and as a result if the season ends before decked out 2 has been played for its entire two-month run, he legally would be allowed to become a serial killer. and like, he lives near impulse and skizz, and maybe they're acceptable losses, but the entire state of arizona isn't. and who knows. maybe more. and the hermits can't be responsible for tango murdering the entire state of arizona (and who knows maybe more). they just can't. so the season can't end yet. because decked out 2 isn't done. and hasn't been played for its entire run yet. because the fate of arizona depends on it. you understand, right?

[sandflakedraws]

my 'u should play ghost trick' propaganda starts now

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go

[aphel1on]

laios has very quickly become dear to me not just because he's an autistic protagonist but because his autism is itself one of the reasons his party has an edge over others. though we see him struggle in social situations, his special interest makes him hypercompetent in the context of dungeon survival. i'm aware that's not a NEW observation on him but i was impressed that he even used his special interest to successfully solve a crisis that relied on noticing social cues- he was able to pick out the impostors bc he honed in on the small discrepancies in their attitudes toward monsters. if that isn't weaponizing your autism, i don't know what is

[foxinys]

I.N x Alexander McQueen for W Korea / 2024

[lucabyte]

"So what's the weirdest possible first (second) impression Loop could make on the party in postcanon?" "Yeah, that, probably."

+ Bonus

theyre just standing there in direct party order while this happens. normal tuesday.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

What if the lights randomly turn on one day? Like someone buys the studio and as a result with paying electricity bills and what not they just turn on so they can clean up but onstead find wally, frank, howdy, and poppy just 🧍🏻🧍🏻🐛🦩

local puppets get Flashbanged