#e etc

[d-doolsetnet]

oi procuro mutuals br q gosta de

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[katsukistofu]

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x teacher! fem reader. fluff. ⭑ he keeps staring. the kids notice.

In your five years of teaching, you never thought you’d see Dynamight sitting cross-legged on the daisy shaped carpet in the center of your classroom, while your kids swarm around him to paint his face.

Warmth spreads across your chest as you take it all in. It’s quite the sight, to see the big, buff, seasoned twenty five year old pro hero letting all these tiny toddlers take turns taking clumsy swipes at his face with the colorful paints you bought for them the week before for art class.

What you don’t notice is the way his eyes trail to you wherever you are in the classroom. When you move to open the windows to let the fresh air in, to wipe the chalkboard, even when you’re organizing the mess of crayons on your desk into their rightful bins.

“Why do you keep staring at our teacher?” One of them, a little boy wearing his t-shirt backwards, curiously pipes up. Everyone else nods in agreement, they’ve been wondering the exact same thing.

“You gonna tell her what I said when I leave later?” Katsuki raises a brow. A chorus of playful noooo’s follow him.

“We’re gonna tell her while you’re still here!”

These little brats. He’s barely known these kids for two hours and already he knows that they love you like a second mother, and wouldn’t be letting him go so easily. There’s fondness in his eyes as Katsuki chuckles and leans in, and the kids eagerly lean in to hear what he has to say.

“I’m starin’ cause she’s pretty.”

Gasps and nods of agreement spread across the carpet just as you clap your hands together, your sweet voice ringing through the classroom, to which everyone, including Katsuki with his paint bedazzled face, turns to give you their fullest attention.

“Alright my angels, let’s give Mr. Dynamight some space now okay?”

Curious little eyes glance back and forth between you and Dynamight with, when someone loudly pipes up, “Ms. L/n doesn’t have a boyfriend!”

“Mr. Dynamight thinks you’re pretty!”

“He stares at you like the way my brother stares at ice cream!”

“Hey I was going to say that!”

Bickering ensues across the carpet and you simply gape at them as a hint of a smirk appears on Katsuki’s face.

Should we tell them after class? He mouths in your direction.

No, you mouth back, covering a giggle behind your hand at the continued chaos of your kids behind your boyfriend.

A little homework never hurt anyone.

[umblogdetrabalho]

oq aconteceu com o mundo?

olha algo que sempre percebo mudar no mundo e a sua maneira de pensar pois se muda algo pequeno muita coisa para de ser a mesma so num vo dar exemplo pra num falar besteira mais so de lembrar das coisas como era ja sei que não vão voltar e sempre que tudo muda sempre tem a chance de piorar ou melhorar mais enquanto isso não me afetar diretamente eu vou continuar seguindo em frente pois é melhor do que ficar parado ou indo para trás e so não pensar demais no futuro e vai ficar tudo bem e mais uma coisa num quero que essas trends do tik tok me encham o saco

essa foi uma tentativa de blog e até mais

[nyaa]

北へ。/ Kita e. White Illumination (1999) Sega Dreamcast

[crtter]

Incredibly amused by this one upcoming anime that has a foreign girl as one of its main characters and she looks like your average token anime foreigner (white, blond haired, blue eyed, you know the drill), except she’s Brazilian. First time I ever see a blue-eyed blonde Brazilian character in literally any piece of non-Brazilian made media. If my grandpa was still alive I’d give him a call to congratulate him on the representation win.

[astralleywright]

someone made a post about wanting to see this meme redrawn with the team issylra guests and i thought you know what, yeah. yeah i can do that

[nyxofdemons]

okay so the main criticism i've been seeing against episode 8 is that beelzebub (among other things) is "too nice" to be the sin of gluttony, because she's an attentive hostess, because she expresses worry over blitz's excess drinking, etc., and i wanna talk about it.

the thing is, i feel like this complaint is rooted in the most basic, somewhat cliche idea of the sin of gluttony, and a somewhat boring approach to bee's character in general. the idea is that, as the sin of gluttony, bee should be encouraging over-indulgence, excess, and the self-destructive aspects of party culture and drinking.

but she's the queen bee. she clearly explains that she can feel the "energy" of everyone at her party, and i think that's very important to analyzing exactly what gluttony means to her. instead of indulging in food and alcohol and drugs and being selfish (as gluttony is generally expected to be about), bee feeds on the ENERGY of the demons around her. and in order to get the best energy she can, she needs to be making sure everyone is actually having FUN and having a good time. gluttony, in this sense, is about EXTRAVAGANCE, having the best quality of everything, rather than just everything in general.

i also think this is why she was so put-off by blitz's actions. when he chugs the entire barrel of alcohol and then is absolutely wasted beyond all reason for the rest of the party, he's NOT actually engaging in her sin. he's not being gluttonous; he's not drinking to have a good time or to indulge or to have fun - he's drowning himself in alcohol because he's trying to forget and ignore all his problems, which is a sin much more akin to pride. his energy feels bad to bee because he's not having fun, he's deeply hurt and trying to distract himself by being self-destructive, which is NOT what her sin is about.

(also, remember, this is supposed to be part TWO of the finale. meaning, this episode (and the introduction of bee's character) directly goes hand-in-hand with the introduction of asmodeus, who's entire club IS about indulgence and depravity and everything you'd expect from the sin of lust. bee and the gluttony party are meant to be a direct foil to the energy of ozzie's.)

[frozen-seagrass]

The WALL-E au no one asked for

[fumifooms]

What if we were both magic prodigies and it otherized us in different ways and we devoted ourselves to protecting a family member who has general other goals & priorities. What if we both did self-sacrifical devotion in opposite ways.

What if we were dark mirrors of each other and where I've grown overcontrolling you've grown complacent. What if, bought as a servant into a pretty loving home, ownership and control is what love looks like to me, and to you neglected and lonely growing up, love is gratefully taking any scraps of it you’re lent.

By belonging to someone, even if she comes back injured or fails at finding Delgal, she feels like she belongs and is cherished, by owning someone he feels safe in them not leaving him.

She’s what’s tethering him do you see… And he’s the only thing giving her direction and purpose in her state. She needs a compass and he needs a support.

They’re both so out of it 😭 It’s the weirdly intense and unearned mutual trust and reliance on each other?? They’re each other’s weird little comfort codependent teddy bear. Or at least they were headed towards that before SHE DIED THEN HE DIED THEN THEY BOTH FORGOT ABOUT EACH OTHER AND NEVER MET EVER AGAIN. Though she’s also the guard attack hound keeping him safe… And vice versa he heals her and can rewrite her very being with just one wave of his hand. They’re both so so mentally and physically vulnerable both but they cling onto each other. They can’t perceive things accurately but despite it all someway somehow they stumble into something closer to resembling companionship just before they both die. Falin is just that kind and Thistle is just that lonely. Overworked. We both haven’t lived for ourselves in a very long time, haven’t we.

They both have a similar devotion to the people they love but again the difference is that Thistle starts overtsepping while Falin is self-effacing. The other difference between them is that people care about Falin <3 People have given up on Thistle long ago, and he has given people reasons to, while people refuse to give up on Falin. Yaad has a mini arc about it dw about it it’s ok he’s not all alone in the end 😭😭 He reached out for Marcille’s hand but they already all wanted to help him, they just had to be given the chance to, Yaad just had to be given the chance to, it’s okay I’m okay

Hey what if we learned to get in touch with our own identity and the world around us and living in the present again through being in the worst codependent situationship ever.

Falin and Thistle sitting in a tree, sucking on flowers together because they’re h-u-n-g-r-y 💕💕💕

I bet he’s only ever thought of flowers as useless ornaments. Weak weeds. But she shows him they’re tasty and useful and good and pretty in their own right too and deserve existing without proving their worth and waaa <33 Thistles…... Did you know thistles taste sweet if you remove the thorns and eat them?

"Even as a chimera, her kind nature remains" you can’t suppress her in the way that matters. You can’t soothe him in the way that matters. It’s doomed. You’re doomed. It’s all doomed. Save me.

[rxkuyo]

Pokémon Sun and Moon ▶ Guzma｛3/∞｝

[hamletthedane]

[silksongeveryday]

Seriously considering speeding up the journal entry stuff so it can be done quicker.

I’m starting to get tired of it lol