#or well whats left of it

[askchee]

[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.

[hajimedics]

I'M NOT YOUR DOLL AND I'LL THINK FOR MYSELF AND I'LL LIVE FOR MYSELF

[tagerrkix]

rage.

[wasyago]

recks cleo !

she's a human btw, not a robot teehee ^_^

[saryasy]

Aziraphale didn't choose heaven, he chose humanity. he chose making a difference. he chose trying to fix a fucked up system that does harm by its mere existence. he chose taking the ticking clock hanging over their heads and smashing it to pieces.

and he didn't choose that over Crowley, he chose it over his own happiness, over being near the one person who truly knows him and loves him.

and he did it alone even though that was the last thing he wanted.

[wild0moon]

little man's lucky he's gay because he's never having kids after this

[heartorbit]

bugs when you lift up a rock

[trashinyourpockets]

Alien child and dad.

[nelkcats]

Fenton Street Food

"You know what's better than being a superhero? A street food vendor! Yes, superheroes can save the day, stop villains and receive hatred or admiration as the case may be, but a street vendor? They are at the heart of the action, fulfilling their dreams! They traveled the world feeding the masses, and even met superheroes, feeding them to keep them doing their duty, food carts are the centerpiece of keeping the heroes alive, they are the heroes..."

Maybe if Danny repeated it enough times he'd start to believe it, though seeing the monstrosity that was the Fenton food cart he highly doubted it. More so because it had fucking guns hidden next to the mutant and very alive Hot dogs (which by the way were not sellable, they were the mascots of the brand).

It all started when Jack Fenton talked about his dream of delivering his favorite food around the world, that fueled Maddie Fenton's idea, and since Jazz was in college and Danny was on vacation no one could stop them.

Soon Danny became a victim of his parents' eccentricities. Although the halfa had to admit that selling in Gotham was a lot of fun, thieves didn't think it was worth mugging him and the Rogues themselves bought his food of dubious origins.

It was almost a shame to have to change cities because Batman was getting too suspicious but Metropolis was waiting for him. And he would be back eventually; some bats who had enjoyed his strange roving food stall had waved him off with handkerchiefs, wiping away fake tears. Danny appreciated it.

Besides, Red Robin affirmed to him that he would recommend him to Superboy, so he wouldn't run out of customers anytime soon. He wondered if he should stop by Central City, the Flash Family ate a lot didn't they?

[primrosebow]

♡Finally!♡

I found the artttt :))) it took me a surprising hour and a half but it could have been worse, really.

Content warnings!: Uhm?? Suggestive? Actually nsfw I believe. I have never done this before AHWHAHWHD(ToT) this is like my third post of all time!

(Somewhat vaguely) inspired by @bigfatbimbo 's STELLAR fanfic about Lucifer (^ー^) my first moot of all of time!!!

Here goesss :))

I imagine he'd try to cover his mouth because the noises are getting uhm, a bit too loud.

I haven't, well, re-read the fic for the 103949202nd time recently and soon after I finish reading it the thing grows legs and exits my memory, so, it isn't all the way accurate to what happened in the fic since I don't remember if this exact position was featured, but, for a 3:45am drawing while I was unimaginably high and didn't even remember making until lunch time of the next day, I'd call this a pretty successful run

In case you're wondering where his wedding band went, I ate it. Lilith is going to have to go look for a new husband now, or learn how to deal with getting cucked(￣ｑ￣)ｚｚｚ

I will see you all soon I believe!

To the ones I already know: these 10 days just mean daily, regular posting. I will still be very much active when they're up! I honestly think I'll be more active; it'll just mean I have to wake up at 5:40am and will have a lot of free time on my way to campus. A lot of time to put the mind to work ehehehe :))

[askchee]

hey buddy what are your thoughts on Dream? (i don't ship them, i'm just curious)

(Chee doesn't Know any of the sans aus yet, well Other than Ink but he's already been gone a while, He may or may not have Completely forgotten about Chee Rip)

[asteraws]

digimon 02!!

[journey-to-the-attic]

the rest of the cast got their new song covers, so i wanted to try putting the others in a band :>

i did want to make it look a bit like an album cover but i have no idea how those are designed so eh?? i also couldn't think of any band or album/song names so. if anyone has any ideas...

[mayasaura]

It's not missing Harrowhark that makes Kiriona the saddest girl in the world. Or at least, it's not just the lack of Harrow.

She fought all her life to escape the Ninth, fueled by the conviction that there was a better world waiting for her if she could just get out. As a kid, that was the fantasy of a super cool and important parent who could rescue her and punish the people who hurt her. Later, it was believing that as soon as she rescued herself, she would prove to everyone how awesome she was. She would make herself a hero, and she would be so valued and useful even Harrow would have to admit it.

Now she has every status symbol she ever yearned for, and none of it means anything. None of it feels good. She's escaped, and it turns out there was no better world waiting for her. Kindness is rare, and the people who show it die meaningless violent deaths. The rest of the universe has proved itself to be almost as cold and dark and isolating as the Ninth, filled with horrors she'd never imagined.

Kiriona Gaia is the saddest girl in the world because she's lost hope. She has everything she ever wanted, and it all sucks. So what is there left to want? What is there left to fight for? What is there left to live for?