#said anything about it?

[toyherb]

while I think the story and game design of totk is really strong, I feel like the game lacks the sense of wonder that was in botw. it doesn't help that totk barely recognizes botw despite being a sequel. botw did happen and people will say as much, but many less prominent NPCs have forgotten Link and all of the physical evidence has disappeared or disposed of. No one mentions any of the champions except for Mipha. It's like a part of us, those who played botw, and in a way, Link, has also been buried. Just like the champions. The divine beasts. The sheikah. The gaurdians.

Maybe just like how they emerged from the ground, all the towers and shrines and divine beasts have sunken into the ground again. But no one acknowledges it, and the gaurdians themselves have disappeared. I miss the music and excitement that came from seeing one.

The zonai aren't nearly as mysterious and strange as the old Sheikah shrines. We know who Rauru and Sonia are. We understand that zonai devices are powered by zonaite. But the sheikah technology, the blue flames, its all gone up in smoke.

I dunno. it feels like I'm looking into a foggy mirror reflecting botw back at me. it's missing pieces that would make it whole. Walking around Hyrule, I feel like I keep seeing ghosts.

[clownboybebop]

if you’re ever in the position to choose between giving up and accepting defeat, and actually trying to fight the ancient unkillable god that is about to peel apart reality like a string cheese, remember this: scientifically speaking, you might as well give it a shot!

1.there were trees at the beginning of the world! there were trees so long ago that they predate bacteria that causes wood to decay. when a tree fell, it would lie there in stasis and there wasn’t any way of breaking down wood xylem on a molecular level in that way.

2. it seems obvious to say, but wood eating bacteria are literally incapable of comprehending what they’re breaking down. It’s just not information conciously available to a microorganism. they don’t know what they’re deconstructing, where it came from, bacteria have no way to even fathom the existence of a tree as a concept.

3. Regardless of the facts above, the world we live in today is a world where wood inevitably decomposes

it is worth fighting the unkillable god no matter how pointless it seems. it is worth taking the risk even though youre trying to accomplish something impossible. the reality in which you live was also once reality in which trees didn’t rot. You live in a reality that allows for existence before the possibility of destruction. you live in a reality where uncomprehending microbes break down matter that is so far beyond the scope of their comprehension that it feels comical to specify something so obvious. you live in a reality that occasionally allows unshakeable physical truths to be altered with no warning.

It is worth fighting the unkillable god because trees are so old they predate the source of their destruction, and it still did not spare them. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because bacteria rots unthinkingly, because there is room in our cosmos for destruction without comprehension on the part of the destroyer. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because now and then reality retracts the promise of immortality without fanfare, and when that happens there is no mercy for the ancient. the unmaking is not softer for the desecrators ignorance. for all things, existence is endless until the exact point where it ends.

so you might as well try to kill the unkillable god. it doesn’t seem likely, but at the beginning of the world, trees didn’t rot. so you never know! you never know

[archi-pelago]

maybe never forgive. but things are different now. so we'll use maybe.

[uservarric]

had the wildest interaction today some random woman called me a slag and my dog a fucking faggot because I was using a pink lead/harness and he’s a boy like what the fuck lmfaoo

[idolomantises]

I’m gonna be honest I think this entire election cycle has exposed how incredibly racist and performatively progressive a lot of white liberals are lmfao

[yeosin-n]

Can I hold shattered dreams face... He's so cute-

watch out he’s gonna you do a tickle !!!!

[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.

[mischiefbuckley]

Oliver correcting the woman during the interview and taking a moment to pause and reflect and saying “uncovered about himself, he discovered in his mid thirties now that he identifies as bisexual” in regards to Buck’s sexuality on the show when responding back after she had said “you had to switch roles. your sexuality changed on the show which was a really big turning point” like bless that man so much he cares so much about the representation and always since day one defending bisexual Buck like we truly are blessed having Oliver playing our bisexual icon Buck 🥹🩷💜💙

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show.

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[vaguesnail]

this is the best thing that's ever happened

[hajihiko]

💕

[chloesimaginationthings]

You drew him as such a baby here... so cute!

Oswald is just a lil guy.. Pit Bonnie get sent to super hell for bullying him

[teaboot]

Social anxiety level: Chatting with someone experiencing a schizophrenic episode and becoming increasingly self-concious of how I'm just saying "That sounds really stressful", "I've never heard of that but it sounds scary", and "You must be pretty worried about that" over and over again

[vaguely-concerned]

when obi-wan said 'I won't kill anakin' and then spent the entire rest of his life following through on that. fuck everyone else obi-wan I respect you yoda should've taken you at your fucking word

'boohoo why did he walk away and not kill anakin this time either even with all the suffering he'll go on to cause if he lets him go' he's told you why very clearly you just didn't believe him I guess!! desperately not killing anakin is obi-wan's main export. it's his universal constant, his life's work, his magnum opus. he gets creative about not killing that guy. he tries to send anakin's teenage twink son to do the job for him because he simply can't. he fucking... peaces out and dies to avoid killing anakin. that's like his whole deal. whether he's right to be like this is another entirely separate conversation but it is what he is

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.