#every last thing

[naris-606]

Don't worry i'm also sligtly teary

Imma keep my phone on buzz if you ever send a dm for anything,i've got you and i know i'm not the only one that won't stand for a Sad Nari!

Today's gonna be an emotional one I guess lol

Thanks :) I appreciate it a whole lot. I probably will send a dm somtime soonish methinks

[cozylittleartblog]

"content creator" is a corporate word.

we are artists.

[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.

[patrickztump]

got an ipad so i had to draw my son in his many positions of rest

[hinamie]

*catboys ur shounen protag*

[ping-ski]

speak no evil, see no evil, hear... all evil???

@lilakwii i hope u enjoy this little gift since u like sun so much hehe :3

LDR belongs to @spadillelicious !

[aashiyancha]

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3

It's been some beautiful spring days that made me think of the summer to come. So, I decided to give this game another whirl

Also peak summer moment. I wanted Jeremy to come back just so I could pour another cup on him.

[mellpenscorner]

People need to understand that Zutara isn't about Zuko being the hot and sexy dream guy that makes Katara swoon. It's about their complimentary Tired Parent™️ energy and the fact that Zuko is—at all times—slightly terrified of Katara in the most smitten way possible.

[buggachat]

honestly just in general it's very exhausting to try to analyze media that is literally meant to be analyzed, only for the replies to be filled with people arguing not against your analysis, but against the premise that the media can be analyzed at all.

i don't even know what to say about it without starting to really betray my frustration, so i'll just settle with— just don't engage with analysis posts? I'm serious. if you're typing a response to a media analysis post, reread what you've written and ask yourself "is this comment/response against the very concept of analyzing the media at all?" and if the answer is yes then delete it all and go sit in the shame corner. throw your curtains away if you want to so bad and stop telling me that I'm not allowed to hum and haw at the fact mine are blue

[sleepy-spaceman]

Something about Jacobi’s clone in “time to kill” really messes me up. Because, like, after you listen to the episode where you find out that Lovelace isn’t the original Lovelace, we also find out that the clones don’t actually know that they aren’t the original person. The Jacobi clone was completely convinced that he was the original, so when the others left him outside, his last thought was probably that his friends had just made the worst possible mistake they could have made in that situation, that they had left him, the real Jacobi, to die and now they’re all in danger because there is something else that isn’t him on the ship with them. He died thinking that theres this thing that’s taking his place. This is the worse case scenario and there was nothing he could do about it. On the other hand, the real Jacobi, (assuming that the real Jacobi was the one inside the ship the whole time), had to listen to himself die. And i bet that after he finds out about how Lovelace is an alien, he thinks to himself, what if he isn’t the real Jacobi, that the real Jacobi died when they left him outside, and that he is the alien and just doesn’t know it. Because how could he know that? Lovelace didn’t, and he would never have any solid proof that he doesn’t know either. I bet it drives him a bit crazy, if he constantly has that thought going through his head.

I dont know. I think about this quite often.

[m-r-moth]

thanks everyone! we hit 1300 people today enjoying my silly little drawings!❤️

[id: atla fanart of toph launching both her and zuko into the air on rock pillars (with rock shards floating around them). toph is standing firmly (with a serious expression) and holds zuko by the back of his kimono, so that he doesn’t fall from the pillar, as he shoots out a strong glowing flame from his hand that curves around into the foreground of the picture. id end]

[demaparbat-hp]

Toph as a Goalball player 💪💚

[littlegayteaboy]

how similar zuko and ozai look from side profile got me thinking:

i mean they have the same straight forehead, same brow, and the long and sharp nose. having a familial resemblance to the person you hate most in the world is real and it sucks. i imagine this bothers zuko for a long time, bc every time he looks in the mirror he's reminded of ozai.

until one day he gets socked in the face by an assassin and breaks his nose. ever since then he has a nose bump and he's very happy with it

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

some misc Barn & Wally doodles from the past week or so <3 i heart them

[dailyfalsesymmetry]

day 119

ouaauuauauaghHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[bixels]

The Ryoko Kui interview's reception is such a disaster over a pretty normal (yet still flawed) interview between a non-Japanese fan and Japanese artistic. This is discourse for discourse's sake, and it's no surprise that almost every Twitter user I've looked at who's using this interview to parade Kui around as a goated mangaka standing strong against Western ideology is anti-trans.

Like, I do think the interview was kinda wonky with its focus on fandom culture, which Kui clearly didn't have much interest in. But sometimes that happens. Sometimes interactions between two people, especially a fan and a creator, two people who view and interact with a piece of media in completely opposite perspectives, don't click. Does this really need to get blown up into a "West vs. East culture war" issue.

Anyways, Kui saying "I don't consider my audience's interpretations when writing. I leave it to their imaginations, but I have my own read on things too" is the healthiest, most normal thing an artist/writer who wants a non-parasocial audience could say. Artists and writers use this line all the time. If Kui didn't enjoy autistic Laius or Farcille headcanons, she would have probably voiced/signalled her discomfort, like she did on the topic of Senshi fanservice. Overall, Kui handled the interview really well. Props to her to sticking to her guns and keeping a healthy disconnect from the fandom. While I think the interviewer could've/should've been more tactful and restrained, the flaws in their questions is not a symptom of the woke mind virus trying to wriggle its way into the pure Japanese psyche. It's the sign of an over-eager fan who sees a piece of fiction differently than its creator.