#not like i want or can buy it

[cuboideater]

ITS REAL THE INV PLUSH IS REAL

[astriiformes]

Really says something about the dire state of offerings for men interested in sewing their own clothes that even searching things like "interesting men's clothing patterns" brings up articles with links to four or five whole websites that primarily offer admittedly nice but practically identical patterns for making button-ups and work pants and maybe a varsity/bomber jacket if you're lucky.

(Branching out into historical costuming for everyday wear is like your one shot at variation, and even then, the ratio of men's to women's patterns on every website is frustrating to say the least.)

Patternmakers as a trans man I am begging you. Give me a little more to work with here.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

real talk having the 2nd worst new years eve yet 🤢🤢🤢 (throat infection, twisted neck, banged-about-foot, ego AND the rest o' me all bruised like misjuggled peaches 🍑🍑🍑)

im bent outa shape and suspectin the universe owes me 8 buck if anyone wannsa chip in

[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.

[dkettchen]

cursed construction core hi vis bra that came to me in a dream

In the dream I saw it in the window display of a hardware/DIY/trade shop, implying it was meant to be a practical garment designed for actual female constructions workers in a Female Armour level missed-the-brief attempt at gender inclusion

The practical support from the visible underwire combined with the hi vis implying it’s not meant to be worn as an undergarment, I just-

I blame my binge-reading ND Stevenson’s gender comics talking abt masculinity and femininity incl the one abt Victoria’s Secret lingerie yesterday for this monstrosity x’D

[blehhblep]

[lazyraton]

Almost got hit w/art block once so I drew MK and his noodle boys<3

[obsob]

the accolade ( the...the cat-olade...)

[fascinationstreetmp3]

I have what you're looking for. High quality. Befitting a man of my tastes. I have a room over on Divisadero, not too far a walk.

[yuwuta]

roommate katsuki lore time: 

your job isn’t as physically demanding as that of a pro-hero, but it is equally, if not more time intensive. your friends often comment you seem dead on your feet way more often than they do, and you have to agree. so when you decide to scrounge up some extra money and hire a private chef, you think it’s the best decision you’ve made in a while. 

your friends would seem to agree—and some tease that maybe you should ask your guy if he can cater to izuku, too. except for katsuki, who seems appalled, betrayed, and disgruntled. it takes all but one week about you gushing over the meals your chef has prepped for you for katsuki to show up to your apartment in the middle of the day, while you’re at work, and the chef is in your kitchen, kindly ask him to leave forever, and get to work himself. when you come home, you’re confused and pissed when you realize katsuki has fired your saving grace, but the anger falls flat on your tongue when you’re interrupted by the blonde spoon-feeding you the most delicious bite of steak that you’ve ever had in your entire life. he’s way too smug watching you physically melt about the food, and ordering you to sit down and have a proper meal. 

he tries not to be endeared by your stuffed cheeks, but there’s a satisfaction brewing in him that he can’t quite place. all he knows is it won’t be taken away from him again; that’s why he flicks your forehead, throws a dish towel over his shoulder, and says, “make room for my shit here by the end of the week. and don’t complain when i put all your spoons together in one drawer,” before heading over to the sink to wash up. 

you don’t even get until the end of the week before katsuki is barreling into your apartment with boxes and clothes and, “this is what we call a stainless steel pan in the wild. ever seen one before?” prompting you to reach up and pinch his ear even as he cackles all the way to the kitchen. you suppose, in the end you can’t complain. you get to live with your best friend, you get free catering, free cleaning, and it takes you two months of living together to find out katsuki’s paid off your rent for the rest of the year, too. you know, what friends are for. 

[skelerangart]

Started using star trek as motivation to practice backgrounds and scenes lmao

[rbtlvr]

anyways ive only ever talked abt this on discord but the world needs to know so: hey guys did you know? loop's attacks in the twohats fight ALL do damage based on a percentage of your hp. did you know? the maximum base damage they can do in phase one is 17% of your health. did you know? even if you went into the game files and changed your own level to level one, loop could not one shot you from full health at any point in the fight. did you know? did you know about this?

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?

webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.

it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[queer-obsession]

Just a small drabble. Kenma has a high maintenance girlfriend and has no idea (read: he doesn't care and thinks you're way too amazing for him). Song below makes me think of the dynamic

Warnings: Kenma x Fem!Reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, you're into your appearance and typical "feminine" things (by heteronormative standards) in this one, you are just mentioned in this, not actually in it. it's more of a conversation between kenma and kuroo, sorry. really short, i could expand the concept into a fic in the future.

Kuroo looks over Kenma's shoulder to see what's distracting him from Kuroo's riveting story of his last business trip and is surprised to see Kenma confirming an online order. "Buying a new game?" Kuroo asks with a grin.

Kenma rolls his eyes and leans away from him in response. "No. I ordered a new bag for ____ ." His tone suggests it's nothing out of the ordinary, and it isn't, but it still causes Kuroo to raise an eyebrow.

"She's kinda high maintenance, huh?" Kuroo comments his thoughts out loud.

Kenma scrunches his face up as he looks at Kuroo like he's stupid. "No."

Kuroo pauses for a moment and just blinks because Kenma is not naive or oblivious. In fact, he's able to read people almost freakishly well because of his anxious obsession of staying a head of people so they can't catch him off guard and humiliate him or something. There is no way Kenma is oblivious to your tendencies. "You're buying her another handbag..." Kuroo says slowly.

Kenma grunts in response and looks back at his phone. "A tote bag," He mutters the correction. "And I'm buying her it because she carries so much shit in her bag it hurts her shoulders. This is supposed to be internally padded without it being noticeable."

"And...you don't think that's...high maintenance?" Kuroo inquires as if speaking to a child.

Kenma huffs in annoyance and looks up at Kuroo again. "No. She's easier to please than my cat."

Now Kuroo is seriously confused. "What?"

Kenma looks at him like he's stupid again. Kuroo feels like he's on the outside of some inside joke. "I bought her a year's worth of nail sets for valentine's day and she was skipping places for the next week," Kenma tells him bluntly. "She's so easy to please, it's ridiculous."

Kuroo looks at him in bewilderment. "Kenma, she gets a new nail set every month and she hardly ever wears the same outfit twice. She gets embarrassed if someone sees her when she's not fully done up."

Kenma purses his lips. "Yeah. She likes when people admire her," He tells Kuroo as if it's obvious. Kuroo is genuinely so lost right now. "That's not high maintenance, it's easy to understand. If she was super complicated to read and clingy, and nothing pleased her then she'd be high maintenance. She's not any of that."

Huh, Kuroo never really thought about it like that, but he supposes it makes sense for a guy like Kenma. He likes things straightforward and he appreciates people who understand him and his need for solitude. You're straightforward in what you want, you don't expect Kenma to make himself uncomfortable to please you by demanding he takes you places or anything, and you're fine to give him alone time since you like alone time too. Kuroo supposes you being a little materialistic and into your appearance doesn't bother Kenma since it's simple and he seems to be able to understand it, which is all he cares about.

And, now that Kuroo thinks about it, it's not like you ask for Kenma to do any of the things he does. You were into fashion and being done up long before you met Kenma, to the point that Kenma didn't believe you were into him for a while because you seemed so out of his league. It's not like you sought Kenma out because you wanted a guy to pay for your nails. Ever since Kuroo has met you you've had a new nail set every month, happily showing it off. Now, Kenma pays for it though, and he almost looks as happy as you do when you show off your new set to him. Maybe that's what Kenma meant. You are pretty easy to please in that regard and maybe Kenma likes pleasing you, and seeing remnants of it whenever you wear something he bought you or have a new hair style he payed for. Kenma isn't good with words, but he's decent with actions. Maybe he likes that he can please you so easily with actions.

Kuroo smiles at his friend and chuckles to himself. "Well, whatever you say, Kynma. She's your girl."

Kenma scrunches up his nose and turns back to his phone. "Don't call me that."

[darkdragon768]

Various doodles of the Dorito Twins.

I just like to play with them like dolls and put them into situations.