#Oh well not that I'm that bothered

[algerian-lady]

Seeing the Ranma 1/2 tag trend made me realize they were having a reboot, which is great, but it also made me remember how much I loved the anime as a kid, I love the old version most, not sure about the new one, haven't seen it yet to judge. I might just check it out of curiosity then binge watch the old version and maybe read the Manga. I used to love Ranma sm bcz of his chill character, like I can't think of any other protagonist who's so chill and cool (yeah ik he's not always like that), I also loved the visuals and the constant jumping around and fighting, I love the concept of casual martial art between tennagers, that's so cool. I didn't like the main romantic dynamic much, idk maybe I was too young to appreciate it and will enjoy it later, but yeah I usually don't like the main thing much.

[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.

[paintpanic]

👑

[marypsue]

Man, it's cool and all if you see a metaphor for marginalisation in the monstrous, and if you want the power fantasy of 'what if you could just eat anybody who threatened you/pissed you off'. Me too.

However, as soon as you start saying 'no, these monsters are a 1:1 on Specific Marginalised Group, and you have to treat them in the fiction like they are directly representative of real human members of the marginalised group', BUT you also, in the fiction, make them hurt/kill/eat humans? And then try to shame me, your audience, for noticing or engaging with the bit where they kill people, because you made them directly representative of a real-world marginalised group? You have lost me, and also, I think, the plot.

[eugeniedanglars]

the way i see it, colin has three options for handling the repercussions of kissing michael on the pitch in front of everyone:

gatekeep: by some miracle no one caught the kiss on camera so colin's sexuality is kept between him and any fans who happened to be on the pitch near him. the safest option.

girlboss: keeley gets the pr challenge of a lifetime handling the story of the first active premier league player to come out as gay. rebecca is tall and powerful and intimidating in the press room making it clear that richmond stands behind colin one thousand percent. the most realistic option.

gaslight: straight-up blatantly lying. not because he's ashamed or because he thinks he can actually convince anyone that the kiss didn't happen, but just because he refuses to let it be a big deal. acts like he has no idea what anyone is talking about if asked anything related to his sexuality. he doesn't claim to be straight, mind you, he just pretends to be extremely confused about why they're asking because he never kissed anyone in the middle of a football pitch at the end of an internationally-televised game? when presented with photo and video proof of the kiss he says that was some other richmond player named hughes who wears a number 12 jersey. you don't know him, he goes to another school. the funniest option.

[th3e-m4ng0]

re: that post about the lack of enrichment in trucks

i bring yet another megop au where op is another depressed fellow whose EM field is always emitting gloomy and tired vibes. vs megatron who is at his happiest when hauling materials and messing with his coworkers/friends

they haven't seen each other in years since the war ended and they signed all these treaties and paperwork !

[iizuumi]

>:3

[serpentface]

Extremely quick and dirty speedpaint of a dream I had last night

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Me when someone says they don't like Echo

[sysig]

I really like @theratpy​‘s Dr. Zo :D I like him for normal reasons don’t even worry about it don’t read into it at all haha (Patreon)

Bonus Ratticus

[manasurge]

A quick drawing of my attempt at @commanderthalys's Thalys with her Iboga face leaves and an overabundance of thorns and spikes and teeth bc I have no chill lmao (they're also WAY larger than what they should be to properly hide while folded up on her face, but I am not good at resisting the temptation of exaggerating these things lakjdsfls)

[ispridestillasin]

So I decided to watch a bit of Bridgerton with my mother, which I'm not really interested in (I don't really like period pieces unless it's a fanfic for a ship I like) but it's a show she enjoys so I sometimes catch her watching it and join her, and literally the only takeaway from the stuff I've seen with her is that Colin, Lord Debling, and Penelope should have all been poly

[ivrket]

Toby my beloved

I love this man I wanna draw him so much, but I have so little time.

Fuck finals :')

[flickering-nightfall]

A karma flower sways gently in the dark~

[becausebuckley]

Seven Sentence Sunday!

thanks @spotsandsocks for the tag! i'm taking this as opportunity to share a little snippet from an upcoming flufftober fic that i'm very very excited for <3 if you want to join me in pretending it's not yet monday (or if it's still sunday for you lmao), consider yourself tagged! i'd love to see what you're working on!

“I don’t know,” Buck says, laughing wetly. “This feels pretty perfect to me. Just- it’s you and me, and Chris, and we’re at home. What more could I need?”

“I guess you’re right.” Eddie leans in again, pressing a soft kiss to Buck’s fingers. He lets his forehead rest against Buck’s knuckles, breathing him in. “But I prepared a speech and everything, so you gotta let me do this, okay?”

“Okay,” Buck agrees easily. He shifts his hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, tilting his head up so Eddie has to look up at him, staring into those big blue eyes, the ones shining like precious stones. Buck looks so happy, Eddie thinks he might glow in the dark. He knows he himself is probably glowing just as brightly.

“Yeah, I’ll let you do this.” Buck smirks, though it doesn’t look nearly as mischievous as he’s intending to, considering the tear rolling down his cheek.

“Propose to me, Diaz.”

“I’m trying, Buckley.”

“Make it a good one, and I won’t be Buckley for much longer.”

[crescentmoonsandroses]

"i mean, seriously, he could've drifted off into the stars and there would've been nobody to catch him! that idiot... he's lucky i was there..." *continued grumbling*

What's a destroyer to do when he finds his totally-not-friend-and-DEFINITELY-not-boyfriend asleep and floating in space? Drag him back home with strings while grumbling the whole time, according to Error.

Tilly and I were talking about Error X Outer last night because it's cute. Now, I absolutely adore ErrorInk, but the beauty of the multiverse is that there's an infinite amount of different timelines! So I don't have to choose!

Didn't turn out exactly how I was picturing it, but I still enjoyed drawing it. Paint pens are fun.

Error!Sans belongs to CrayonQueen. Outer!Sans belongs to Mimi Pippinski.