#and in the 10 hours

[bucksboobs]

I would say it’s unrealistic to write a fic where Chris comes home after the summer only to find out Buck and Tommy have moved in but then I remembered Eddie canonically asked Marisol to move in within a week of Chris being out of town

[deadpanwalking]

HELP

[hinamie]

mentor

[thatskindarough]

HAPPY GAY

[sporesgalaxy]

i shouldnt be at the club i should be at a monastery. illuminating texts and shit

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

SHE REDSTONED WHAT???

[otiksimr]

Poorly drawn Magikarp line

[skyberia]

i lost myself trying to get you to spit me out

[asthedeathoflight]

I think an underrated angle on 2x05 is something that either Jacob or Assad said in some interview somewhere, which is that in that episode Louis is addicted to heroin. Thats why he has that whole stash of drugs that he gives to Daniel, that's why he gives Daniel the drugs even though he's already got him alone. He didn't just use those 128 boys for sex he was using them to get high. Bring them home, get them to shoot up, and then drain them to get that secondhand high.

It clarifies something that's always confused me about that scene, which is why Armand saves Daniel the first time. He wouldn't save Daniel as a person, he clearly knows Daniel needs to die, but he's not seeing Daniel as a person there. Daniel is just a substance. He rips him away from Louis to stop him from using.

And i think that adds a whole other layer to the fight he and Armand have to think that this is Louis on a bender, with Armand cleaning up after him because he's not stable enough to. Louis in the bed for a week isn't just healing from the burns, he's going through withdrawal. Him at the table with Daniel giving him the "bright young reporter" speech is probably the first time he's been sober in months.

It adds another layer to Armand's desperation, that Louis has been running from both Armand and himself in this way, and of course Armand wants to erase that memory. Of course he wants to pretend that that fight never happened. Not just to protect himself but in a way to protect Louis from having said those things. When he describes the fight to Louis afterwards, he says "you said the worst things you've ever said to me." And he doesn't really know how to forgive Louis for that so he just wants to bury this rock-bottom moment and move on like it never happened. After all, Louis was high, he didn't really mean it, but if he remembers then maybe he might think that he had a point. Better to wipe the whole experience away.

[filmnardo]

Dip & Pip redraw 🙌

[glitxlipse]

he did a barrel roll !!! (alt version)

+ a frame i found while making it thats too good not to share

[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.

[hinamie]

sry i have chronic only draws megumi disorder the doctor said it's terminal :/

[soaked-doors]

“Those two things can exist at the same time. Like you said, it's all—it's all tangled up together, you and me.”

double page spread for one of my favorite luzo fics of all time, poly philtatos (the most beloved by far) by my good friend - @swordsmans!

I knew I wanted to do a double page spread the second I finished this fic and I drafted abt a dozen ideas before landing on what would ultimately become this. There were so many snippets and moments I wanted to illustrate but I ended up doing more of an abstracted version of the fic as opposed to 1:1 drawings of scenes 

funnily enough while the fic itself is told in zoros pov this spread is framed mostly through luffy’s eyes - his tears literally frame comp for their reunion, the moment he loses zoro, and the centerpiece of the first page which is this weird abstraction of him on the beach seeing zoros corpse-not-a-corpse in the waves just beyond his reach. 

gyro put the crane wives’ never love an anchor on the playlist for this fic which i heavily used as inspiration in picking ornamental things for the spread (the anchor, the fleet of ships by luffy, and the nautical rope splitting the second page). also just like. overall really heartbreaking lyrics guys 

there are smaller elements throughout the spread that are 1:1 references though (all i will say for these is if you know, you know hehe) i wish i had more time to do a lengthier piece for fanart for this fic bc it's one of the few luzo fics that have been rattling around in my brain forever now - once again please please please read poly philtatos if you haven't. gyro is a masterful writer and they deserve all the love! ok byeee

[lunisolarity19]

Why’d you do it?

[nefarious-smartass]

“leave the demons to his demons”

((can you guys believe the funny jumpscare bear franchise is officially 10 years old now?))