#TALK TO ME DAD

[technovillain]

crown jewel/stained glass jello cakes are like beautiful angels to me. it's fruity and delicious. it's retro kitsch. it's an edible example of midcentury minimalist art in every cross section.

i understand the 50s housewife appeal here. if i rolled up to the potluck with a fugly cobbler and my neighbor brought one of these i may have to end my stupid sloppy fruit life.

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[lilly-townshend]

[parisoonic]

People in glass houses Heavy...

[aerequets]

loid is actually a perfectly normal dad, the only difference is that anya can read his mind and figure out his past experiences instead of having him drop his lore 7 years later randomly on a thursday evening

[lilysaus]

reblog if you consider the people youve befriended on this website (and other websites) to be real friends, even if youve never met them irl before

trying to prove something to my dad

[weavile]

the number you have dialed cannot be reached at the moment. please try again later.

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x06 - “The Message Hidden Within the Pattern”

[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.

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Fic Idea where Fiddleford helps Stan rebuild the portal, but Stan finds out that Fiddleford has a wife and he's like

"You have a WIFE?? That DIDN'T marry you to steal your car and money???? What are you DOING here???"

"Yeah, well.... She's better off thinking I'm dead somewhere....."

"A WIFE. That LOVES you. Get outta here and go explain yourself, Idiot!!"

"She and our son shouldn't have to deal with--"

"YOUR SON???!!?!!??"

Anyways, so Stan helps Fiddleford reach out and explain himself to his wife, but expresses that he wants to keep being in Gravity Falls, so his wife and kid go to live with them in The Shack instead.

Blah blah blah, bonding happens, Stan bags Fiddleford AND his wife and becomes a step dad, God bless 🙏

[sarcastic-clapping]

LET YOUR DAD DIE: IT'S FINE IT'S FINE IT'S WHAT HE DID TO HIS DAD.

Lestat + Claudia: Patricide & The Cycles of Violence - INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (2022) - Catherine Lacy, "Cut" (2019) / Anne Rice, "The Vampire Lestat" (1985) / Anne Rice, "Interview with the Vampire" (1976)

[ghost-bxrd]

Stuck on the thought that Bruce tried to be a father for Dick, but Dick didn’t want one. He wanted an equal, someone to fight crime with. And consequently, Bruce drove him away with his overbearing nature.

And then Jason came to him, and of course Bruce had to do better this time. He didn’t want to lose another child Robin. Only he realized too late that Jason didn’t just want to be Batman’s partner, he wanted to be Bruce’s son.

((And with Tim he was too scared to even try))

Kay thanks s’cuse me while I go cry in a corner goddammit

[crossthread]

Adding to this from my own notes from a prompt where Carol dies and Bradley comes to live with Mav and Ice much earlier.

Ice taking Bradley out for long car rides the nights they both can't sleep because they miss Mav when he's on deployments.

Mav always calling pretty late, at the same time every week like clockwork, and Bradley and Ice move their work/homework to the kitchen table to be closer to the phone. Ice and Bradley 'compete' to see who can get to the phone the fastest but Ice always let's Bradley win.

Bradley getting his love for not just planes, but anything with an engine that goes fast from Mav, and learns how to take something apart and put it back together because he always worked on bikes, then the bronco, with Mav. But Ice was the one who taught him how to drive a car.

Mav surprisingly being the good cook in the relationship, while Ice only just graduated from burning water when Bradley came to live with them. Ice tries his best, and he has maybe 3 recipes he can consistently make that are decent, but Ice and Bradley suffer quite a bit when Mavs not home. Mav can COOK. All of Bradley's parents except Mav are terrible at cooking, and even when Carol was alive, it was Mav that came and made him chicken soup when Bradley got sick, so he really misses it. To remedy this, when he has time during leave, Mav makes a lot of chicken broth that he uses for his soup, and cans it so Ice can make Bradley some emergency chicken soup when he's sick.

Mav giving Bradley the safe sex talk, but Ice being the one that tells Bradley to always open the door for your dates, and always have breath mints in his pockets.

Ice being a father to Bradley.

When Bradley needed help with maths homework, he would go to Ice. The general was more than happy to spend hours helping the boy, and they'd work through each question together.

Maverick was jealous of it at first, hurt that Bradley went straight to Ice, but after taking a glance at what the two were working on he was more than happy to let them do their thing. It's not that he didn't get it, one didn't get as far in the navy as Maverick without having some degree of understanding in mathematics. In fact he was pretty decent at it, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. At all.

Ice being there when Mav couldn’t be, when Bradley really just needed a shoulder to cry on.

[egophiliac]

I have SO many thoughts about everything and they are in no kind of order yet, so here's just some quick little bits in the meantime!

I am not normal about any of these characters!

[grinchwrapsupreme]

shawn's deep trust of lassiter keeps catching me so off-guard like when he's held captive and lassie and henry both turn up he tries to yell "carlton" not "dad" and when he sees a guy with a gun come into the restaurant he goes straight for lassie and keeps trying to get his attention instead of literally any of the other dozens of cops in the room with them and when he's telling someone to call the police he tells them to ask for lassiter, not jules, not vick, lassiter. like he spends all his time provoking lassie but the second there's danger there's literally no one else he trusts more

[soldrawss]

@funneylizzie got me in that Casey Jones Jr brainrot and I haven't known peace since