#but also that poor mom

[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.

[aceadoxography]

fic idea where aaron gets knocked around at a game and gets amnesia. when people are allowed to see him andrew is the first one inside and the nurse is like "oh, this must be the twin brother." and aaron blinks up at andrew and smiles, no resentment or hurt or shame in his eyes, expression open and trusting because he hears 'twin brother' and thinks 'of course we love each other.'

andrew doesn't know what to do with a brother who doesn't hate him.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 319

Ghosts can retreat to their core when they’re hurt enough. Really, when they’re close to a second death, or in such distress that they risk shattering themselves. They, for lack of better term, hibernate until it’s safe for them reform, and continue on their way. 

Halfas are a little… different. 

See, technically, they can’t die. One half will end up healing or reviving the other. But, they can still retreat to their core. The issue comes from well, the living half, that is, the half still made of flesh and bone. Which unlike ectoplasm, cannot shift and meld at will, and in fact? Most if not all of it is, once more for lack of better term, shed. 

Meaning that halfas, should they retreat to their core emerges with the body noticeably… smaller. 

Now of course they keep their memories, their core would never forget after all, unlike the brain which relied on more… fleshy means. Not that the current halfas were exactly aware of that fact when they instinctively did so in self preservation. They are… not pleased upon their emergence. 

The woman who stole their cores- which were apparently sold as gemstones what the fuck- is… definitely not happy either. And- okay that is not their english, where the fuck did they end up- 

[arcanegifs]

Arcane Gif Requests: anon + Caitvi Scenes: 27/? ↳ "We need you back on your feet. What was the name Sevika gave you? Jinx?"

[hellomayu]

kiss kiss fall in love 💕

[northescere]

as much as i love tendou with abandonment issues due to not having friends before and being terrified of them leaving him i believe we need to give more attention to wakatoshi with abandonment issues. i can't see his mother as the loving type. his father was probably his only pillar of emotional support and comfort growing up and when he moved to america, wakatoshi had all of that ripped away from him, thus the fear of the people he loves leaving him behind. i can imagine wakatoshi in tears grabbing tendou by the wrist as he's boarding the plane to paris, saying in a voice too broken for the man he appears to be that he doesn't want tendou to leave him.

[scarletkaoru]

Nynaeve: im only a few years older than rand! His mother! As if!

also Nynaeve: I raised all four of you and you will treat your mother with more respect

[thatdiabolicalfeminist]

Single mom of 2 young kids needs help with car repairs in wintry South Dakota

Hi everyone, sorry I haven't been on here much lately, I've been dealing with some difficult health stuff the past couple months, but someone I love has asked me to share her gfm for car repairs.

I've known her in real life for decades and her kids since they were born. We all spent a lot of time in each other's homes before I left the Midwest, and we're still close now. This family is incredibly important to me, like in my top 10 most central people in my life.

This whole family is also living on less than $1k/mo. Her local garage estimated repairs will cost $700 which is totally unattainable without help.

If anyone can help them out with even $5 towards repairing the car that takes the kids to school and doctor appointments and that they use for groceries etc., I'd be incredibly grateful and I know she would be too.

[haveihitanerve]

Read a fic then suddenly thought-

Do Bruce's kids know he was engaged to Selina and that she stood him up? If not, I'm curious what their reaction would be to the info

WAIT HE WAS ENGAGED TO SELINA AND SHE STOOD HIM UP?!?!?!?

lemme look smth up- OH MY GODS... ok- ok-... ok i think i got this... im gonna cry:

It happened on a Saturday. Because of course it did. The one day where she had no obligations, no excuse to run and flee, and the day that she and Dick met every week to catch up.

"You really drink this stuff?" Dick wrinkled his nose at the smoothie in front of him, pushing it away. Selina laughed, pulling bowls from her cabinet.

"You're really insulting my drinking choices when you live with Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake?" She countered, raising an eyebrow as she ladled soup into their bowls. Dick snorted, accepting his bowl with a nod of thanks.

"Fair, i guess. But I can hate on all of your drink choices. I'm equal in my distribution of judgement." Selina chuckled, blowing gently on her spoon before taking a gentle sip.

"I appreciate it." Dick's shoulders shook with silent laughter as he lifted his spoon in acknowledgement, taking a sip as well.

"Of course. Ah- shoot!" Selina raised an eyebrow as the first Robin cursed, hissing in pain as the hot soup splattered onto his shirt. He sighed in frustration, grabbing a napkin.

Selina swatted his hand away, rolling her eyes. "Go- there are towels in my side table, go to the bathroom." Dick nodded his grim agreement, standing from the table and heading into her bedroom for the towels. Selina shook her head, returning to her meal and finishing it up before standing to clean up.

"Uh?? Lina?" Dick's voice echoed from the bedroom.

"Yeah?" Selina called back, cleaning out her bowl in the sink. Dick walked into the kitchen, a frown on his face.

"What's this?" Selina turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and froze.

"Wher- where'd you get that?" She asked quietly, hands grabbing the counter behind her to keep her upright. Dick raised an eyebrow.

"It was in your drawer. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry, but I couldn't find the towels." Selina shook her head.

"Right. Yes. Of course." She turned away, back towards the dishes.

"Tabby?" Dick asked, taking a step closer, the stupid box in his hand. "What is it? You don't usually keep your steals in your drawers, and this is something expensive." Selina breathed slowly, bracing herself.

"No," She agreed finally. "I don't keep steals in my drawers. And yes, it is expensive. I would hope it would be," She smiled softly, turning to face him at last. "Because your father bought it for me."

Dick's eyes grew wide as he looked at the box. "B bought this for you?" Selina tilted her head in a nod. Dick's eyes narrowed. "But... its a ring-" He froze, eyes darting to her. "You're not married." It was a statement. Selina's head jerked in a no. "Then what-"

"We were supposed to be. Going to be." Selina cut him off before his detective skills could go haywire and she'd lose him. "He uh, he asked me. And I said yes. And we were going to be." She leaned against the cabinets, avoiding Dick's blue eyes. The same eyes as his father, though adopted. "But um.." Her finger traced circles on the counter, eyes distant. "We weren't... as alone, as we would have liked. And... someone.. close to me.. She talked me out of it. And I-" Her voice caught but she forced herself to look at him, to say it. "I left him there. Alone."

Dick's silence was damming. "You left him at the altar?" Every word was precise, hard, cold. Selina forced herself to nod.

"Well, technically we didn't have an altar- it was a roof-"

"You left my father, alone, at the altar-" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Chimney- whatever! And- and and, kept his ring???" Selina swallowed.

"He told me to keep it. A reminder. Maybe a promise. Dickie-" She reached for him, begging him to understand.

"No. No." He shook his head, backing away from her. "No no no.. I- I need to think. Alone. And- and maybe talk to Bruce-"

"Please don't." She grabbed his sleeve, holding on despite the vicious look he sent her. "Please. Your father... I don't want him to have to... to be reminded. Please. You can yell at me all you want- but- but leave him out of it. It's my fault." Dick's eyes melted slightly, but he still moved out of reach again, his sleeve slipping through her fingers.

"I know its not his fault." Dick's laugh was entirely devoid of humor. "For once, its not his fault. No, that lies solely on you." His eyes were so hard and cold and blue it hurt.

"Kitten- Dick I'm sorry," Selina begged, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "If I could I'd go back in time and erase it all from ever going wrong... but I can't. We agreed... we agreed to give each other a break, some time, and I'll give him that," She looked at him, anguished. "I'll give him whatever he wants I will, I swear. But... but I'm no longer a part of that."

Dick stared at her as though she had grown two heads, and maybe she had because he set down the ring box, and took a seat. "Selina, we're going to sit here, and you're going to explain exactly what happened, and after that you're going to explain exactly how it is that you believe he doesn't want you anymore, because I can guarantee-" He laughed, and this time there was something there. "That he still does."

Selina slid into the seat opposite him, hands unconsciously seeking out the box, and the ring inside. She opened it slowly, and Dick watched as she pulled out the ring, twirling the gorgeous thing across her fingers. She slipped it onto her middle finger, and Dick, mercifully, didn't comment, just watched her expectantly. Selina took a deep breath, and began talking.

[nabaath-areng]

When I was little I thought one of our cats Sockan (translation: the sock) was a tiger. She was more bright orange/red IRL too compared to photos

[incorrect-losers]

Stan: *Reprimanding the losers*

Mike: Yeah, okay, Dad

Stan: Mike…

Mike: Yeah?

Stan: Don’t ever call me Dad again

Stan: *Leaves*

Mike: How do you think he’d feel about Mom?

Eddie: Let me know when you’re going to do that, so I can run

[ink-the-artist]

forgive me if you've been asked this before or if its annoying, but how did you learn to use colored pencils like that? your art is so special to me.

ty :) I took an art class for a few years where our teacher had us buy prismacolor pencils as one of the art supplies and had us use them kinda like paints, pressing down hard right away and blending the colors together. its not how youre supposed to use them she was just trying to teach us to use color and ig this was more to the point. I picked them up again years after i stopped going to that class just bc they were there and i wanted to play around w them a bit and ended up actually enjoying it when doing it on my own terms lol

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 234

More of the Tiamat Au? More of the Tiamat Au! 

Sharing a body was strange. Ten limbs split between the nine of them- thirteen if one counted the tails and seventeen if one counted the fact that their cloak… skirt… whatever could mimic the wings of their other form. 

One which they would change back to after a few moments- there was much less stumbling when it was all fours. Not to mention that if not for the tails they’d have easily toppled over with how many arms they had making them slightly top heavy. Okay more than slightly, it was taking a bit to adjust. 

Honestly the fields of wheat and other crops did nothing to hide them with how tall even this body was, but it was still better than nothing, and they were using the fact it was the middle of nowhere to their shared advantage. 

At least the humanoid- not human, even now their shared power thrummed through the air, leaking from them- form was smaller than their true draconic one. Well, perhaps they shouldn’t call it their true form, when they were once all human, halfa and liminal alike, but they’d long since stopped being such. So perhaps it was in fact true to call the form they had become as their normal state now. 

Actually, could they even separate now? Or had their power melded together so much that it was impossible now, and an attempt would end them? It would at the very least crack their core- 

“What the fuck.” 

Their head lurched, a little too far if the jolt of pain was anything before it melted away. They were all too used to moving their own necks separately. But all of them agreed that discovery could not happen-

Oh.

It was a child. A preteen with red-orange hair, blue-green eyes, expensive clothing, and most damming of all, large swaths of bruising across his arms. Bruising that did not come from usual play, and looked far too much like hand prints for any of their comfort. 

Someone had very much not been taking care of this child. And that really made them quite angry. 

[realbeefman]

something very interesting to me about the poorly choreographed violence in like minds particularly in regards to alex’s father. like you can just TELL that that actor does not want to hurt that kid and it honestly influences the way he plays this character who i think is TEXTUALLY meant to be a very proud and overbearing man but who comes off more as someone so deeply mired in grief that he can barely stand to look at his own son.

[tangledinink]

new gemini update was so good as always but I can't stop thinking:

big mama: there's nothing wrong with my sons

splinter: you fucked up two perfectly good kids is what you did. look at blue. he's got an eating disorder

wwhhhattttt? nooo, don't be silly. leo doesn't have an eating disorder.

leo and donnie have eating disorders--

[duusheen]

Since this is their first baby, Hope and Danny attended some prenatal classes to get some information, but she ended up leaving even more worried than when she went in. As the doctor recommended exercising, Hope switched from the gym to yoga, hoping it would help, but she ended up having a mental breakdown in the shower that night 😢