#many skills

[xenadaily]

Xena has many skills! XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS 🗡️ (1.11) (1.20) (2.11) (2.19) (2.22) (3.15) (6.18)

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[inkskinned]

i hate to say it because i'm neurodivergent and a chronic-pain-haver but like... sometimes stuff is going to be hard and that's okay.

it's okay if you don't understand something the first few times it's explained to you. it's okay if you have to google every word in a sentence. it's okay if you need to spend a few hours learning the context behind a complicated situation. it's okay if you need to read something, think about it, and then come back to re-read it.

i get it. giving up is easier, and we are all broken down and also broke as hell. nobody has the time, nobody has the fucking energy. that is how they win, though. that is why you feel this way. it is so much easier, and that is why you must resist the impetus to shut down. fight through the desire you've been taught to "tl;dr".

embrace when a book is confusing for you. accept not all media will be transparent and glittery and in the genre you love. question why you need everything to be lily-white and soft. i get it. i also sometimes choose the escapism, the fantasy-romance. there's no shame in that. but every day i still try to make myself think about something, to actually process and challenge myself. it is hard, often, because of my neurodivergence. but i fight that urge, because i think it's fucking important.

especially right now. the more they convince you not to think, the easier it will be to feed you misinformation. the more we accept a message without criticism, the more power they will have over that message. the more you choose convenience, the more they will make propaganda convenient to you.

[weepynymph]

Do not write fanfiction. One second you're normal and the next you're downloading a calendar from 2004 and tearing your hair out over what specific date every event in your fic happens

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Thistle Debut Day!

[uncharted-constellations]

The entire ALBW team

Links about to become Lorules #1 hytopian fabric exporter

[zoetheduckling]

I did a Piper re-design for fun

[romancantthinkofausername]

5 pianos

[astrophysician]

IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!

portfolio piece ♥ IDW i'm coming for you!!

[konjiang]

I'm back at it again with my cumplane au

Airplane decided to open a separate account to earn some money through PIDW fanfic commissions, and his side account became super popular in the fandom. Cucumber-bro, being the chronically online guy, immediately commissions him with an absurd amount of money, like a whole month's rent worth of money, for him to write a fix-it AU of PIDW starting from LBH being pushed into the abyss.

Airplane was overjoyed because he could write the story he intended and still get paid for it. Of course, Shen Yuan noticed how good his commissions were and started recommending the fanfic to people in the comments of PIDW chapters. The comments were full of praises for this author and bashing Airplane, saying how much worse Airplane's writing is compared to a fanfic author.

Shen Yuan and "the fanfic author" met up one day, and Shen Yuan sugar daddy his way into Airplane's life. After a while, Airplane earned enough off of fanfic commission (but mostly just Shen Yuan) that he could end PIDW and started writing new stories.

After PIDW ended on chapter 6666, instead of raging and choking to death, Shen Yuan immediately dm Airplane and commissioned an alternative ending fic. At this point, Airplane already predicted that Cucumber would want one, so he wrote one beforehand. In the email with the fic, Airplane confesses that he's Airplane, and now that PIDW was over, he just wanted to thank his most loyal fan and anti-fan for the years they spent together and for giving him a chance to write the PIDW he always wanted to write.

Airplane was both excited and terrified to see Cucumber's response, but he did not hear back for days. After two weeks, He was depressed that he had ruined his relationship with the only person he consistently interacted with, both as Airplane and as the fanfic author.

On the third week, Airplane received two emails from Cucumber, one to his main and one to his side. The email to the main account contained paragraphs detailing all the shit he did wrong with PIDW and the last chapter. On the side account, it just said, "Response to my email as Airplane."

Airplane nervously wrote out a short but sweet message to Cucumber that identified him.

"Thank you, Peerless Cucumber, for your support! If you hate it that much, just read the fanfic I wrote for you. That one is the canon version in my eyes, anyway.

Sincerely, your dumb hack author <3"

Shen Yuan was in denial. The last two weeks he spent looking over the fanfics and comparing them chapter by chapter to PIDW. He did not want to believe that his favorite and most hated authors were the same person.

-tbc

Annnnnnd, I'll leave it off right there.

[umblrspectrum]

how do lighting and shading work

[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.

[hootyhoowoo]

A little 15 min doodle but first post of the year has to be Bingqiu!

[mari-lair]

Isaaaaaa

[bookshelfdreams]

There's no clothing item so great as the humble triangular shawl.

Throw it over your shoulders for some effortless elegance. Pin it with a cute little brooch if you're feeling extra fancy. Wrap the ends around your neck and let the tip trail behind you to be cozy and dramatic. If you need to be practical, cross the ends over your chest and tie them behind your back to keep your boobs and shoulders warm but your hands and arms free. Put it over your head and wrap the ends around your neck - that's a hood! You could even wrap it around your waist, if you're feeling avantgarde and need to keep your kidneys warm.

The possibilities are endless. Tie up your groceries or other small items in it to carry them. You can sit on it instead of sitting on the ground. Wrap it around a small child to keep them snug and safe. Tenderly drape it over the shoulders of a shivering lover.

Cape, vest, headscarf, skirt, tote bag, security blanket, she can do it all. Truly one of humanity's top 100.

[ministarfruit]

day 10: love is devotion ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)