#ladies don't even bother

[crsentfairy]

WTF you lookin at?!

[vinceaddams]

Man, people on marketplace really suck at taking photos of furniture.

[andromeda3116]

like, i've had people say in reviews before that they were disappointed in the zutara in such selfish prayers, because it was too subtle, and like.

i get that. it was supposed to be subtle, building to a new beginning rather than a true shipping fic, but i can get being disappointed that this famous zutara fic doesn't have a whole lot of zutara

but like

i didn't write it for the zutara? like, don't get me wrong, i love the ship, it's my comfort ship i always come back to but like

such selfish prayers is really about katara falling in love with katara

the emotional thrust of the story is katara growing into herself and becoming who she's always wanted to be, and the "ship" is, in a way, kata/ang, but in the sense of --

it's katara and aang coming to terms. realizing that they're better as friends, but that their friendship is deeply important to both of them, and they do love one another. it's not romantic, but the whole story is building to the coda where they can stand at the ground-breaking of republic city -- where he recognizes that she's engaged to zuko now, and congratulates her -- as friends, again

such selfish prayers is very much an idealistic story. the politics are idealistic and the relationships are idealistic, too. the guy i had recently broken up with, when i wrote it, ultimately couldn't be my friend again. politics are a dark and deadly mess. things don't always -- or even often -- work out for the better.

but such selfish prayers is about what we want to make happen, and believing that we can do it, if we don't give up. it's about hope, and optimism, and having faith in the future, and in falling in love with ourselves and growing into a life that fulfills us

the real love story is katara, for once, putting her own desires -- her own selfish prayers -- first, and choosing what she wants, after a lifetime of putting other people first

such selfish prayers is a katara fic first and a zutara fic second, and i understand people -- who were expecting another stormbenders or once around the sun or incendiary -- might be disappointed that it's not really that much of a zutara fic, but zutara wasn't actually the story i was telling

it's a love letter to katara, first and foremost and last and at the core and at the end, it's all about her, and what she deserved

the zutara is just a bonus.

[highpri3stess]

Nicki Minaj. Queen of rap. You had 24 HOURS to come up with a response. 24 HOURS. And you came up with BIG FOOT???? BE FOR REAL💀 If you are gonna be pressed about 1 line in a song, at least do it well.

If that lady had logged off twitter and kept quiet, maybe she would have come up with something minutely good, cause nothing beats Hiss fr.

Big foot, six foot. What a joke 💀

[httpiastri]

how about if... i just... don't do my work.....

[crown-ov-horns]

Anyone want Crowley x Readers? Or War x Readers? I don't know how long I'll take to start uploading my WIPs, and I don't like to not upload. Female Reder. Both male and female Crowley (not at the same time). War'd be... Herself.

What are you saying? I'm procastrinating? Why, ✨yes✨, how did you know? On my WIPs, original works, and papers for uni.

[allisonreader]

My heart hurts. Not physically, but emotionally. I don't like the news, I tend to avoid actively searching it out, for that exact reason. I ache because as people we just can't seem to get along. Learn to compromise and fully try to understand the other side. It's exhausting to understand why people are against certain things, even when it's the opposite of what I personally believe in.

[rosenecklaces]

Me if SJM dares to not give the name of azriel mother next:

[gettothestabbing]

I joined a gym! Since I work evenings, I'm going to go at 6 or 7 am every day. They have a little area where I can dance and warm up, and a lot of machines, and a pool we can use if there isn't a class there. It's super close to my house too.

I'd been able to work out here and there at home, but lately it hadn't been happening at all. I resisted doing this for a long time; I have an irrational fear of spending money on anything unnecessary or that isn't a gift for someone else. That, combined with my shyness, which being screamed at for going on walks in New Jersey in 2020 (from paranoid people across the street no less) wildly exacerbated, made home workouts feel like my only option.

But I finally was able to make the decision to spend money on my fitness and health. Those things ARE necessary, just like food and shelter. It would also be nice to have acquaintances outside of my work and church circles (especially since those have a lot of overlap).

[hippo-pot]

i'm being so normal about OMitB. Mabel as the hearing counterpart to the Deaf character is not pissing me off. because i am normal

[daincrediblegg]

every time I see a still from joker 2 I become just a little closer to donning the makeup myself

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

They weren't kidding when they said studying filmmaking would ruin change the viewing experience forever. I can't watch anything without a running commentary about lighting and framing and blocking and logistics and whatnot running through my mind. But I also get to appreciate all the little details that I wouldn't have noticed before. And I get to acknowledge things that might seem like an issue on the surface, and then discard them and choose to enjoy what I'm watching anyway. I like having that power.

[lady-lilly-gray]

me versus my shein cart versus my Trauma™

[sassyhazelowl]

Quail Group Person: my quail is being aggressive to the other quail *shows video of a very DEFENSIVE quail telling the other quail to piss off and the other quail failing to do so because its in panic mode and climbing all over him/kicking him in the head* Other Person: cull him he's aggressive

[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.