#nothing about it is easy

[wanologic]

yo danny fenton he was just 19

[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.

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

Someone: *mentions doctor who*

Me, vibrating with the effort it’s taking to not talk about something no average show watcher would even have heard of: oh yeah cool show

[ionomycin]

Low tide

[24hrsoda]

GhostBat fusion…Khoa is not used to Tim yet…

[mobius-m-mobius]

Lokius in Loki 2x02 - "Breaking Brad"

[almondpiglet]

moe millennial yaoi

[tubbytarchia]

@mcyt-yuri-week Day 5, Rose/Thorns I never stop thinking about SL episode 8 never ever

[bunnieswithknives]

Gore, Violence and Blood under the cut

What a mess

[nelkcats]

Dead Language Expert

Danny never thought that he could "major" in languages, and get a job as a translator. But apparently knowing all the dead languages ​​by default and being able to time travel with the help of your ghost tutor was pretty useful outside of Amity.

It happened purely by chance, he was walking through a museum and started laughing because of a mistake in one of the sentences that completely changed the meaning of the text. The museum manager, of course, did not believe him, since many people had said that the piece was "impossible to translate". But he study it anyway.

Days later they were looking for him to translate all the things from that time. And he just carried on with it, in many more civilizations. In some cases he even asked for a few trips to the past to Clockwork to verify.

It got to a point where the wizards, heroes and villains over the world knew him as "the translator of dead languages" and some of them even tried to kidnap him to perform a summoning ritual. Danny rolled his eyes and easily freed himself, but the League assigned him an "escort" anyway.

Exasperated, the halfa escaped from his escorts and continued his work as normal. Superman almost fell out of his chair at the Watchtower meeting when he was informed that the boy had translated the language of Krypton and other missing planets. Besides having managed to lose both the Flash and Green Latern, what the fuck?

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Sometimes I feel like celiac disease doesn't actually count as a disability since it's so easy and stress free compared to deadly allergies, but then I remember that I have to meticulously plan every trip I go to and play 4D chess with uni campus restaurant menus and for a brief moment there was genuine consideration if I should be put on growth hormones because I was so small from not getting enough nutrients

[cannibalisticskittles]

so much of the wigmaker's job continues to stay with me but especially this bit.

like. do you think illario hearing lucanis brush off the possibility of his death again and again contributed to illario giving lucanis to zara.

because yes, of course there's jealousy. of course there is. lucanis is primed to get everything illario wants and nothing illario does seems to change that in the slightest. he can never be good enough, not when there's lucanis to measure up to.

but. not only does lucanis not actually want what's coming his way (he does not at all want to be first talon but they both know caterina DOES want this and lucanis could never tell her no), he's also throwing himself into these jobs with such disregard for his personal safety that there's a sense of inevitability that surrounds the idea of his death.

this conversation feels like... it may not have been discussed like this so clearly before, but they've at least poked around the edges in the past. thought about it. and this moment might have been a turning point, in a way -- illario coming to terms with the fact that lucanis really just will. not. stop. for ANYTHING. his cousin WILL get himself killed doing this and lucanis won’t have any regrets. he’ll leave illario to go this alone. (no one to follow after anymore.)

i wonder if he started to think -- if lucanis is going to die anyway, maybe it’d be better to have that happen sooner, rather than later.

lucanis wouldn’t be happy as first talon (+ honestly, maybe this part is a stretch, but illario seems to see that what lucanis is NOW isn’t so much ‘happy’ as it is ‘obedient and content to accept the scraps that gives him’), and he’s GOING to get himself killed doing this, anyway…

so yeah, he could wait it out. wait for lucanis to do something foolish enough that he can't just walk away from it. maybe he’ll even last long enough to be made first talon (if caterina can bear to loosen her grip from the title) and be miserable for a while. years even, maybe! before lucanis, again, does something he can’t walk away from.

or.

illario could cut through all the pointless waiting and get right to the point. go straight to where this was always going to end up. and if illario is in charge of this, maybe he can benefit from it, and salvage one good thing from this whole mess, instead of being caught up in it later down the line.

(which then might tread into the territory of anticipated grief, too – lucanis' loss will be agony, but, if illario controls when and how it happens, he can control his grief. …except he hadn’t accepted the inevitability of lucanis’ death quite as well as he’d thought and when he gets sloshed at the wake, real grief seeps through the cracks)

just... something about this conversation. both of them viewing lucanis’ death as a foregone conclusion. lucanis accepting that easily, and illario struggling with that more -- and maybe having that shape his actions. not exactly a healthy expression of grief, but since when has anything this family done been healthy?

[starscreamingg]

Okay I'm so sleep deprived so pardon whatever this is but something that's got me FUCKED up about ai generated pictures songs writing is that it just fucking kills the ability to analyse for me because there's no fucking INTENTION behind it. Like why was this decision made why were these colours used what does that say about the work NOTHING because a bunch of programming took work that DID have intent and theme and purposeful choices and turned it into SLOP. Like I COULD analyse this but it doesn't MEAN anything it's EMPTY I want to EXPLODEEE

[sweetmapple]

Give your heart and soul to charity,

‘cause the rest of you, the best of you,

honey, belongs to me

[lucabyte]

Hmmm just gonna spit this headcanon out in text post form since A. I don't think I could exposit it well enough in image form and B. It's not actually textually/thematically substantiated and I don't like actually staking my stuff on just vibes alone*

But anyway. I'd say it's pretty evident that all the islanders forgot their names, right? King obviously. Because why the hell else would he do that, but also Siffrin No Middle Names No Last Name.

They're 'pretty sure' they've 'always' been 'Just Siffrin' 'as long as they can remember'. It's a pretty cruel twist of the knife to say that they don't even get to keep their birth name as a memento, which is why I'm saying as such.

My utterly unsubstantiated claim is I think it'd be cute to say that Sisyphus *is* the name Siffrin initially picked, assuming the myth of King Sisyphus is recontextualised as idk, just a play or something in the setting. But I like the idea of Siffrin going 'oh shit 🫵 he's just like me fr' at a tortured fictional character long before the irony kicks in.

As for how Sisyphus -> Siffrin. I think that chronic mumbler and emotional doormat Sif just did not correct people who misheard the name during their time travelling, and went through enough places with incompatible phonologies (pronounceable sounds in the language) without ever really writing it down that it just got kinda. Changed until it was unrecognisable, and Siffrin just went with it until the earlier pronunciations slipped out of their swiss-cheese brain. And they just kinda don't remember any of that.

Also, something something the horrid realisation that Siffrin also named themselves after a King. Just not as blatantly.

*(though I think there's something here about Siffrin, a guy from a belief system that seems to thoroughly disincentivise autonomy and self-motivated choice continuously having their hand forced to make changes/choices they don't want but have no choice but to... It's not solid enough to really back this up tbh, but it informs it.)

Anyway.

[tennessoui]

incredibly self-insert at the moment but

silly lil completely normal and understandable au where anakin moves to a new country and he's got most all of the complex paperwork and documentation sorted so he thinks he's doing great but for some reason he cannot for the life of him figure out how to use the appliances in his apartment. and this is doubly gutting because he's usually very good at this sort of thing! he has a degree in chemical engineering for gods sake, why can't he logic out how to turn on his shower or unlock the washing machine after a wash cycle???

not one to admit defeat, he googles basic questions like 'how turn on radiator stewjon' and 'common oven hieroglyphs stewjon' and finds this youtube channel where this older (hot hot very attractive hot) man named obi-wan films himself doing basic things like going to the store and messing about with his car's oil and also explaining basic appliances and how they work in stewjon

and anakin is addicted. he is in love. he watches all of them. he doesn't even own an iron but now he knows how to use a stewjoni one and obi-wan even gave him tips about how to look his best (like what colors go together and how he should never wear brown shoes with black pants, etc)

meanwhile obi-wan kenobi had to make these videos like five years ago as community service for some minor crime (like murdering his neighbor's plants because they kept getting pollen on his car) and he's very confused when he opens his mailbox one day to a piece of...fan mail?