#school was fucking me in the ass

[emichevy]

I made my own version of Moonknight to put in Tala’s universe (I’m insane)

I don’t have a name for her yet but her suit is very inspired by the old comic book moonknight suit uwu

Enjoy, I’ll be back to posting soon

[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.

[bixels]

Just gonna have to wait and see, right? Just wait and see! Just gotta wait and see! Who knows, we'll just have to wait and see! It's anybody's guess, we'll just have to wait and see! The future is exciting, we just gotta wait and see!

[deep-space-lines]

okay but like. I just had the weirdest thought about that ‘don’t look I’m naked’ comic. Which is that that’s essentially the same thing Adam and Eve did after they ate the fruit of knowledge of good&evil. So I feel like the theological implications of that could kneecap Gabe if he doesn’t think V1 is a being with free will.

yeah ok. i dunno man. is this anything

((side note. this isn’t necessarily meant to be in-character or story-accurate or take place at any particular point in time, just a way to explore some Thoughts. i was also imagining more that V1’s words aren't actually spoken, more like Gabriel’s more articulate interpretation of whatever garbled mechanical noise V1 is using to communicate. I think an angel could do that.))

and then they fucked nasty the end

[heysweetbee]

[lotus-pear]

bike stickers

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice. 

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can. 

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there. 

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically. 

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood. 

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie. 

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty. 

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-” 

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-” 

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles. 

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word. 

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.” 

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home. 

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

[beeduoo]

wonderful

[acekindaneat]

From the work "If At First You Don't Succeed, Find A Loophole" by MalkyTop (@sleepdepravity) on ao3!!!!

(even with my busy schedule .. i had to draw today's update, it drove me insane)

[mueritos]

its my bday today so heres a new meet the artist :3

[bvnnyblood]

"if your left leg is halloween, and your right leg is christmas, can i come in between the holidays?"

what spending the holidays with the chuckle boys is like 🫶

★ halloween with schlatt is straight out of a cheesy romance novel. going on pumpkin patch dates, watching horror movies until the sun rises and you're cuddled up on the couch with jambo. for man of his stature and size, the poor thing cannot stand blood and gore, so there’s a limit to how much he can take at once. no texas chainsaw massacre, no saw, and definitely no terrifyer.

he’s hiding behind every possible corner with a mask on and giddy breath leaving his lips. the amount of times he’s seen you get so scared. the look on your face is so priceless that he can’t help but laugh seeing you clutch your chest as you give him a weak shove.

★ thanksgiving with charlie is the sweetest of times. the two of you waking up side by side, the light pouring into your bedroom as he presses soft kisses to your temple. the two of you going last minute shopping for the little things, like seasoning and cranberry sauce. sitting at home together all curled up on the couch, waiting in anticipation as you wait for santa to arrive in the macy’s day parade.

every year he brings out this stupid apron that you can never seem to figure out where he hides. he has to, because if you ever got your hands on it, you would burn it. it was a part of a matching set, but you had only been able to get rid of one of those stupid things. his apron had a rather large and smug turkey with the words, “i made the stuffing” in a small text bubble. every year he brings it out, and every year he chuckles at the tainted and heated flush he sees from you.

★ christmas with ted is something right out of a hallmark movie. the two of you buying each other small gifts for the twelve days of christmas just to find each other awake in the middle of the night on christmas eve, trying to put presents under the tree for the other. he showers you in cheesy holiday pick up lines and always seems to have a candy cane in his pocket. you never found the box anywhere. and yet almost every time you see him, he has a candy cane in his mouth and his kisses taste like peppermint.

there’s a lot of things to describe ted, but the three things that come to mind when it comes to ted around christmastime are as follows: smooth, cheesy, and romantic. the two of you are watching some kind of holiday-themed movie when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder. “huh, that’s funny. i don’t remember hanging up mistletoe.” you hear him say, a stupid grin on his face as he turns to you. you look up and there you see his hand dangling above you, mistletoe hanging loosely in his fingers before he’s smothering you with his lips.

[emichevy]

Guys I’m not dead I swear plwa

[ef-1]

A day after Daniel fucks over Yuki, you post a photo of yourself wearing enchante,, you're not slick

Skinny white girl like Ricciardo? Ground breaking lol

it's so tragic how you're just gonna have to die mad about it 💋

[myrkkymato]

My current favourite rarepair >:)

[magicantare]

i think i have a disease. sorry

[posallys]

i will NEVER not be pissed that most colleges cost about 40k A YEAR on average and that if YOUR PARENTS make over 120k AS A GROSS INCOME you're practically immediately disqualified for need-based aid???? like do you really believe anybody can afford to throw an entire third of their annual income to their kid's schooling, when they probably have several thousands of dollars in loan debt themselves??? in THIS economy??? eggs are fucking $7 a dozen where i am right now but GOD FUCKING FORBID i get any financial aid because "well your upper class" NEWS FLASH 120K IS THE NEW MIDDLE CLASS AND JUST BECAUSE MY PARENTS MAKE OKAY MONEY NOW DOESN'T MEAN FUCK ALL WHEN I CAN REMEMBER ALL THE NIGHTS THEY DIDN'T EAT WHEN I WAS GROWING UP BECAUSE THEY ONLY HAD ENOUGH FOOD TO FEED ME AND MY SISTERS I need to hold everyone involved at gunpoint because i really don't think a single fucking one of them understands "oh but you have money :/" there's literally a reason i work FULL FUCKING TIME while double majoring and it's because my parents can't even send me money for fucking groceries, let alone fork out FORTY FUCKING THOUSAND DOLLARS GOD DAMN YEAR for a degree that'll be FUCKING WORTHLESS in three years anyway i worked my ASS off and graduated with a 4.7 to get scholarships because i knew that's the only way i'd realistically be able to afford school. and then the fucking fafsa goes "oh but you have money in your savings! you can pay for your own school" bitch i have 4k and it's for my fucking rent!!!! my parents have like $600 in savings do YOU SEE THE ISSUE that's what being forced into credit card debt for 20 years fucking does it puts you in an unescapable hole so even when you're making good money YOU DON'T GET SHIT!!!!!! NOT TO MENTION THE ABYSMAL CREDIT SCORES MY PARENTS HAVE SO GOOD FUCKING LUCK TRYING TO GET LOANS FOR ME!!! COSIGNER? I'VE NEVER HEARD OF HER IM GOING TO KILL PEOPLE!!!!!!