#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

[stil-lindigo]

the machine.

a comic about being a 'creator' online.

creative notes:

[24hrsoda]

GhostBat fusion…Khoa is not used to Tim yet…

[almondpiglet]

moe millennial yaoi

[mobius-m-mobius]

Lokius in Loki 2x02 - "Breaking Brad"

[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?

[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.

[tubbytarchia]

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

[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?

[offkilterkeys]

Being a Jane liker is so hard cause you go to her tag and it’s just a bunch of people lamenting how overhated she is and then continuing to ignore her, and being a Jake liker is so hard cause you go to his tag and it’s just tons of people making the most demeaning comments about him cause his character committed the crime of being annoying (unforgivable.)

[lieu-rey]

Inéz Valenzuela, born circa 1882

A teen girl with a propensity to be stubborn, she has a talent for stealing and lacks fear for most things. Her mother, a nun, gave her up to a Catholic orphanage in Nuevo Paraiso, Mexico. The strict rules of the church clashed with Inéz's rebellious nature, and eventually she was forced out of the orphanage to find her own way. Observant and a quick learner with a desire to help people, she aspires to attend school one day and become a doctor despite the hurdles.

fun facts!:

joined the van der linde gang when she was around 10-11 years old has been with them for 7 years now

has a crush on tilly and is useless about it. tilly has no clue.

close friends with javier. she helped him out alot when he first joined and couldn't speak english yet since inez was already bilingual

her favorite flowers are sunflowers

has some religious trauma(tm). her experiences growing up in a catholic church were,,, bad, to say the least. as a result, she has a complicated relationship with religion.

hotheaded, reckless, and puts on a tough exterior. she's always trying to prove herself since not many people take her seriously.

loves birds and likes to watch them wherever the gang goes

[emblazons]

"Do you not see, Eleven?"

El & 001 + Mike Wheeler & Martin Brenner Parallels see also: Vecna' using El's trauma to manipulate(!) her ⤷ inspired by @heroesbyler & my own commentary (x)