#also thank you for the 50

[themodernage2001]

Untitled by emily kendall Via Flickr: may 1st the strokes concert +5 explored september 14th, #331

[harbek]

Get ready for a Game Changer!

I̴̫͈͖͠'̸̘̺͛ͅv̸̲̰̦͛e̵̬̪͊ ̸̧̬̤͂b̸̼̰͊͒͜e̵͇͎͐ẽ̶̟ṉ̷̯̪͗͂͒ ̵̭̑̓h̸̬̾̄ḛ̴̛̹̪̿r̸̮̊e̴̖͆̒ ̵̣̬̲̽͝t̴̳̫̔̇ḣ̴͓e̸̥͕̎ ̴̡̧͉̔̒̏w̶̲͑̀͐ĥ̶̖o̴̙̻͂ļ̷̍e̵̫͇̅ ̸͍̓͂̕t̷̗̗̼̂̅i̴̟̞̍̒̈́m̵̲̠̃ͅë̶̡̳͇́͒͐!̵̹̦͌͠

Drawn in Photoshop, animated in Spine Pro. The final art piece I made for my bachelor thesis on GIF as a medium for art.

I've been researching digital art in the context of modern folk art, outside institutional or commercial art. I analysed almost 500 art GIFs across Tumblr, Artstation and GIPHY.

There's almost no academic research on art GIFs, so it was important to me to examine and document it. I also examined the optimisation of GIFs and how it relates to web sustainability.

And because the bachelor program was focused on art practice, I then created my own art GIFs, and it seemed only right that I should do it through fanart of something I've been really into lately. Thanks @samreich and the rest of Dropout for giving me some unhinged content as inspiration. Watch 'Game Changer' everyone, it's great.

[dailybotany]

In honor of a bunch of my friends being served iris rhizomes instead of daylily bulbs at a skills event and puking their guts out all night, here is a friendly reminder about wild edibles:

Do not eat any wild edibles that are at all new to you or you are even a little uncertain about without double and triple checking the ID with a trusted, professional resource. ABSOLUTELY DO NOT feed wild edibles to anyone else that you haven't repeatedly IDed and eaten yourself with no problems.

[peaceshire]

Dear Mx Peaceshire, thank you for putting out so much quality content of an OT3 that not only made me go from “I don’t know how this could work in a way that I like” to “Oh so THIS is how this could work in a way that I like” but also for inspiring me to write Buggy just about 25 percent more whiny and pathetic than I already did before. I only post my stuff in a very small circle for me and some of my designated weirdo friends (affectionate), but I still was kind of debating with myself wether or not to push my characterization in that direction, but honestly making him even more of a bastardly sniffling coward just helped me find a characterization of him I really like to write and for that , sincerely, thank you,

…. Also thank you for consistently writing and drawin the hottest fucking smut for this OT3 that has me down so bad that upon seeing the newest episode I actually had some sort of perverted Pavlovian response like “Oh yes and after that they are gonna fuck him up nasty style.” Even though logically I am aware that Toei will not show us Buggy getting fucked up by Mihawk and Crocodile nasty style in any capacity on screen.

keep on rocking, you're awesome

- sincerely, an admiring, if sexually confused, fan of your work

This ask made me so happy ... !!! I drew this for you !!! Thank you !!!!

[lunar-wandering]

do y'all think Macaque is falling back into the role that Azure and the others put on him by remaining on the outskirts of the group because he thinks his input/presence is unwanted (and yeah his presence isn't really wanted by MK and the others BUT. something about the fact Macaque is placing himself at the edge of the group, the edge that Azure and the others pushed him to, doesn't really sit well)

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

my OTHER toxic knitting trait is ignoring gauge entirely for plushies and being pleasantly surprised by the creacher's final size when it's done

[papaemeritus333]

request for @malachitebeck - ghost live in tokyo, japan (2014).

[buckera]

✨ handle change ✨

@neverevan -> @buckera

tagging some moots under the cut 🫶

💛💛💛 @queerdiazs @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @honestlydarkprincess @watchyourbuck @epiphainie @loveyouanyway @likegoldintheair @evansboyfriend @evanbi-ckley @excuseme-greentea @downonyourbuck @kinkdaddykinard @xofemeraldstars @doublecheekedkinard @pxrxmoore @buckleydiaz @hotchglare @bucksboobs @buckttommy @tommykinrd @tcmmykinard @eddiebabygirldiaz @flimsy-spine @djdangerlove @evanbuckleysarms @subtlehaz @the-likesofus @lucydonato @monsterrae1 @kinardbuckleys @weewoo911 @bosons @buckevantommy @honestlyeddie-im-bi @queerdiaz @lengthofropes @raiderlucy @violetchachkii @comfortingevanbuckley @tevanbuckley @zainclaw @buzzcutseascn @freewayshark @nilefreemans 💛💛💛

[just-french-me-up]

Endless Sandman Fanfiction Tropes I Adore (2/?) : ➻ Professor Robert "Hob" Gadling

[courtmartialme]

I have a question. Also, you're my favorite Royai artist (the characters as individuals and together). You've mentioned that you consider Riza autistic many times, but have you ever given your support for why you think that? I'm just curious what your thoughts are.

comparing to my own experience but it's common to see autistic people be taken as uninterested and rude for being unexpressive and blunt. so it's mainly about riza being presented as stoic and somewhat scary but gradually being shown she's very kind and fun and even makes bad jokes with a straight face (it's so moe........) but is bad at expressing that, which makes both other characters and viewers think she's always annoyed and no-fun when that's not true.. it's so important to me

she also barely understands other people's feelings and takes things too literally, or say things out loud you probably shouldn't

like at the hughes' funeral scene when roy says it's raining and riza's immediate reaction is to go "it's not??" LOL or when roy is coming up with problems as excuse to not fight ed in flame vs fullmetal and riza very promptly solves them...! it's all very Autism to me.. my mom works for arakawa and she told me it's true

basically:

(i haven't watched brotherhood in so long but i'm like 80% sure these panels i used are all scenes that didn't make it into the anime which is why i'm an avid brotherhood hater and you should read the manga)

[themuseumlady]

tape, cardboard, and newspaper!!!

to go a bit more into detail on this - from what I understand, this was on display* in a house for a number of years. This particular piece comes from the home of the harbormaster (a lovely man), and was exposed to light and about 50+ years of cigarette smoke. The boat in the photo is an early ferry in my area, and the cardboard it is mounted on seems to be some sort of church(??) yard sign(???)

we are still deciding the best course of action for this piece, but in all honestly, as a smallish museum/historical society with a laundry list of pieces with urgent conservation needs, we don't have the manpower to do anything other than keep it in a dark and temperature controlled space.

There are a lot of things that make me sad when I see pieces like this, because its so easy to see how important it was to its former owner, and it hurts me that we can't pour all of our time and resources into every piece that needs help. There are pieces even in this intake (which I cannot show because they contain identifying information about my location) that will be prioritized as they demand more immediate conservation efforts. Time can be a cruel opponent - and all we can do is our best.

anywho!!! all this is to say Support your local historical society!!! they are trying their darndest to preserve your local history and can't do so without community support! (and support does not always mean money!!! genuinely just interacting with your local historical societies can mean so much)

*I am unsure the specifics of where/how long it was on display for

[unexplained-events]

Just wanted to say I'm sorry that your inbox is full of Zionist but thank you so much for being on the right side of history. As a Palestinian it means so much to me. From the river to the sea 🇵🇸

Also happy Halloween 🎃👻

I honestly couldn't care less about Zionists and what they have to say but thank you for the love.

From the river to the sea🇵🇸 and Happy Halloween everyone!!!

I hope you're all toasty and getting ready to watch some good horror movies

[buglaur]

she's live

now you can see what everyones height is in my head because i refuse to download height sliders. look at ass <3

[rebornrosess]

A WORLD OF NOISE: THE ZABAJABA JUNGLE

ZABA by Glass Animals is 10 YEARS OLD TODAY.

A poem/stream of consciousness I wrote about ZABA on a rainy September night in 2022, one month after seeing Glass Animals live. ZABA was the album by which I found Glass Animals in 2018, and its abstract yet visceral nature continues to fascinate me. The more I listened, the more I felt I could understand the imagery drawn across its 11 tracks.

Essentially, I believe ZABA can be understood as a Queer reading and apologue of Plato’s allegory of the cave. There are many lines that allude to a (Queer) awakening from perceived societal constraints such as in Walla Walla (“it’s a ruse, all these creatures are a lie” & “i clap my hand and they’re gone into the night”), likely referencing the shadows projected by the puppet showmen in Plato’s allegory. Thus, the anguish expressed in songs predating ZABA’s release such as in Golden Antlers and in Exxus are symptomatic of a speaker trapped in a cave, unable to escape a deeper feeling of unease because they are only seeing the reality projected to them by a cisheteronormative system. It is only when the speaker escapes this metaphorical cave in Flip, the opening track of ZABA, (“I’m gonna shake my fetters / I’m breaking loose”), that they finally enter the confusing, overwhelming, but beautiful and fluid “world of noise” mentioned in Pools (and sonically created in Intruxx). Over the course of ZABA, the speaker wrestles with their preconceived notions of reality (Walla Walla uses a ton of imagery from The Matrix), relationships, gender, and sexuality, while simultaneously feeling betrayed by their family and society (Hazey and Toes).

The B-Side of ZABA dips into existential dread, as the speaker mourns the time they lost to the incomplete reality they had accepted in the cave, and the effects it had on their mental health (Wyrd), climaxing in Cocoa Hooves, as the speaker (or someone else), confronts them(selves) and the changes they have undergone in the ZABAJABA jungle. The speaker must choose if they wish to stay in the confusing yet euphoric jungle, or self-destruct (“set [their] wings on fire”) and return to the cave after flying too close to the sun and after indulging too deeply in their primal instinct. However, just as the freed prisoner in Plato’s allegory, the speaker runs the risk of never being able to live in blissful ignorance again, as their eyes may never re-adjust to the incomplete, crafted reality of the cave.

The last track of the album, JDNT, presents a conclusion as ambiguous as the title Dave refuses to explain. It is possible the speaker is accepting their doomed fate as prophecized to them by the antagonist in Wyrd, or radically accepting their outcast status, enjoying the “life untamed.” And perhaps, in the end, they triumph over their internal turmoil by recognizing it only has power over them if they allow it to, as it cannot “breathe without [them].” And thus, they return to the Earth, unfettered and born anew.

[dailybloopy]

[m1d-45]

wandering

summary: my scaramouche pulls, but make it sagau

word count: 1.8k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for sumeru (3.2) archon quest, author has not done 3.2 archon quest but had been spoiled by tumblr :/, probably ooc scara. based entirely on me and my prior pulls (pulled miko, pulled + built childe, has an itto), like two swear words?

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3

< masterlist >

scaramouche didn’t know what to think of the stars.

he’d kept an eye on them, out of curiosity, watching as constellations rose and fell, rose and fell, their cyclical nature never ending. he never saw any importance in them—not even when he heard of the forest watcher in sumeru being used as a vessel and his glass heart twisted—and hence never paid any attention, focusing on his mission in sumeru. he kept a passing eye on them, sometimes trying to guess how long the current rotation would be up during particularly boring fatui meetings, or trying to guess which constellations would light up when the stars began to fall.

after a while, he began to pay a little more attention to the patterns. he didn’t know why, but suddenly they drew him in more, even as he rolled his eyes whenever tartaglia boasted about a star crossing his constellation. never mind that that guuji from inazuma had hers too, no, he was the one that mattered.

and he was probably right. his bow had been replaced, he was a better shot than ever, and his water blades burned with skill. even the tsaritsa noticed his increase in strength, irritatingly, sending him a letter of congratulations on becoming a vessel. he’d even spent a whole day drafting a three-page letter to his family detailing it all, all the new skills and power he’d picked up by being with you.

what made him so favored?

he pulled down the brim of his hat, repressing the need urge to look up at the sky. he’d never been one to believe in astrology, or astronomy, or whatever that witch in mondstat wanted to call it. he wasn’t going to start now, not when his whole plan in sumeru was close to toppling.

he arrived at his camp. he accepted reports with a scowl. he marched to his office. he glanced through the window. he sat down.

he didn’t know why he was being so contradictory. he’d never felt this before towards anything, let alone something he actively despised. there was no reason for this. at all.

scaramouche picked up his pen, pulling over another dull report. the words bled together, the handwriting atrocious, and he was tempted to burn it. the only thing stopping him was the knowledge that it meant he’d have to ask for another from whatever recruit turned it in.

he tapped his pen on his finger. it was hard to focus, unnaturally, and he chalked it up to the weird feeling that’s been bugging him all day; the same one that wanted him to look at the stars. he sighed, adjusted his hat, glared at where a tassel caught on his chair, and picked up a pen again.

‘troops near chatrakam cave…’

purple eyes glared at his page, at where the ink bled a bit as he left his pen too long. what was his problem?

his eyes flicked to the window, to the curtains waving in the breeze coming though.

‘…have encountered no problems. all…’

‘…all…’

‘…all is going gwe-‘

scaramouche slammed his pen on his desk with a loud groan, standing from his chair and sending it skidding back. with stomping steps, he approached the offending window, reaching to shove the pale green curtains aside. he fumbled once on the lock but quickly pushed open the whole window, removing his hat to put his head through and glare at the sky.

“what the fuck could you possibly-…”

scaramouche stared.

his steel tongue was stilled, no quick remark or scathing quip coming to his mind. his thoughts were empty, his mouth suddenly dry as he looked upwards.

at his constellation.

he knew the moment he received a vision—how he wanted to see it shatter—that he had one, the image filling his mind alongside the elemental abilities. he knew what it was, he knew it’s name, he knew the six stars that composed it and the lines drawn between.

he didn’t know it was in the sky.

but there it was, blue stars shining brightly next to some orange bull, almost mocking him as he looked up at them. in his disdainful study of the stars, he knew that only a few were delegated to the prime positions in the sky, and that the latter of the two had been rotated in already. even if he didn’t, the way it’s stars outshone his made it clear.

curses rose and fell on his tongue, like a relentless tide that dared him to speak whilst taking away his air.

he knew what having a constellation in the sky meant. he knew it, and it was why he tried earnestly to destroy it the moment he got over the shock when he received it. he wasn’t picky about power, but power that came at the cost of being another gods puppet?

he’ll pass, thanks.

so to see himself in the sky, to know that at any moment strings could be tied around his wrists once more, that he could be jerked and pulled across a stage of another’s making-

the stars shone brighter.

his office fell away, his hat slipping from between his fingertips.

no.

he reached for it, he reached for his last semblance of a shield—he wouldn’t need it—from another god, but he barely felt the fabric before it was gone.

a white haze surrounded him, vaguely bubbling into clouds far beneath his feet as he stood on an invisible platform. a blurry rectangle was far out in front of him, a distorted voice warping through.

“-i have 45, that makes… i just have to get lucky, then…”

the voice was soft- you were soft, urging him to relax even as his rational mind fought. he could feel his heart speeding up in his chest, feel the war of emotions clouding his thoughts.

this wasn’t fair. you didn’t get to show up, after everything he’d been through, and expect him to fall into your lap. you didn’t get to do that, not to him, not now, not ever.

how he wished you’d catch him.

stars lit up the sky, one after another, and he saw one of them cross a flower-like constellation. you ooo’d and thanked whoever it was for answering—as if they had a choice—and sent out more stars, more wishes, the dust certainly fogging his head.

your voice grew clearer the more stars you summoned, his heart rate increasing in turn. how many did you have? would he be forced to go? why did he want to? would you wrap your divine hands around his and pull him into your team? why did his paper front of a soul leap at the idea?

emotions he’d never felt filled his chest, heat and warmth and icy frost pooling in his veins.

“50,” you called, voice alarmingly gentle in his ear. “please, scara, please?”

he should be proud to have a god so high begging for him. he should cross his arms and puff out his chest, he should smirk and glare with a comment about how even the divine can fall.

he was one of them.

“60,” you whispered, flaring the boil in his chest.

what did he do? what could he do? how did he get out of here? why didn’t he want to? what were you doing to him? what were these feelings? why did he never want them to fade?

“70. please? pretty please?”

he felt himself lurch as the star passed but gripped desperately to the invisible air around him, wide eyes searching for a way out. it was all clouds and stars, as far as he could see, with vague shapes slowly coming into focus around him. he saw something that he thought would direct your attention elsewhere, then realized it would take your gaze off him would only be temporary and saved his energy.

“80. come on, scara.. i promise i’ll be nice.”

nice? he wanted to laugh. he would have if he wasn’t so short on breath already- and yet somehow still lightheaded, his vision swimming as his fingers began to buzz. he could feel it, the invisible rope around his chest pulling as the purple stars whizzed by, and yet he held firm in his place amongst the clouds. he couldn’t answer you he wouldn’t be able to stay composed. he wouldn’t allow himself to be put under another’s jurisdiction again but he knew you were different, you were warm and soft and so different from her.

you would not have him yet.

you were not his god you were his true creator.

you laughed. he hated loved that it was edged with bitterness.

“damn. making me go to the shop again, huh?”

he wanted to apologize tell you it was a lost cause.

“well scara… 4 more wishes. i know it’s useless but… please?”

one.

the pull knocked the wind out of him, his treacherous to who? hands faltering their grip on the walls around him. in the blue light of the stars, he knew he was flushed with exertion.

he could feel it, the chance he was given. the choice to stay, to hear your voice falter and slip and plea, or to go. to answer the string pulling at his heart of glass, to trust and hope that you wouldn’t betray him like so many before.

two.

did he dare believe you? did he dare to trust the only one he could another god, to put his cracked trust in your palms and hope you wouldn’t drop it? did he go against his rules, did he follow the reputation he had built up, did he cling to the clouds before crashing down in regret his office?

who knew if you could be trusted? if he went, you’d have two harbingers under your thumb. what if you wanted to topple the fatui? what if this was a ploy to get him to trust you? what if you didn’t treat him like you did childe or any of the others, what if you wanted him to laugh and scorn and taunt? what if you wanted him just to see him try and pick himself off the floor where he landed, expecting nothing and yet still disappointed?

what if you wanted him for him?

three.

enveloped in gold, the wanderer could only wish that you would catch him.