#well SIR

[cressthebest]

it’s one am and neither me or the spider are supposed to be up. so i let him escape alive once he promised not to tell my dad i was eating grated cheese straight out the bag.

[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.

[dear-ao3]

pov your ex held your collection of thrifted spoons hostage for over a year (not entirely his fault, they got mixed up in his things during a move and you did not realize it, though he did adamantly deny that he had them) and reached out to your roommate on instagram nine months post break up after being thoroughly blocked for several months just to ask if you were still roommates and then to very cryptically reveal that he had in fact found the spoons (among other, mystery items that he did not reveal and you also have no idea what they are) in his car that he had not driven for a year cause he decided to make the worst financial decision of his life and buy a tesla and then tried to coordinate a meet up to drop off said spoons and mystery items which you did not want but you do want your spoons so you told him to either mail it or show up to your place of work when you were not scheduled only for him to entirely miss the point and still try to see you, then you reveal that you do not want to see him so he finally says that he will put on his big boy pants and mail it (though him actually mailing it is entirely unlikely) and also aparently hes gotten a perm since the last time you saw him and it looks terrible

[watmalik]

Hugh Jackman casually admitting he’s a slut. Dare I add… a preening one? (pt. 1 and pt. 3)

[wardengrill]

I've come to realize I'm more married to this team than I ever was to three ex-wives

[mintaikk]

Do y'all think Vox has this on a calendar?

[certainty2witch]

Iva loves bothering them, as it should be.

[eriochromatic]

Last minute self indulgent pride illustration featuring my comfort characters and personal headcanons ✨✨✨

[yrsonpurpose]

"the handsomest-bodied man in all of England."

[grezzirossi]

Silly Bloodweave Sketch with my fave armors/robes for them (golden star for u if u can read my writing)

[panrao]

Exes meeting am I right

[tavtime]

I don't ordinarily care what actors do, but Dave Jones responding to people moralizing about retweeting horny fanart by giving out British Gas (BG)'s complaints department post box address is definitely the funniest thing anyone did on the internet today.

[aimbutmiss]

I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING AT THIS SEQUENCE Zoro looks so concerned

[cringefailvox]

let's be real. hardly anybody in that fuckass hotel is cooking. charlie can only make cup ramen. vaggie and angel hoard packaged snacks like they're stocking up for apocalypse scenarios; both of them have eating disorders for different reasons. husk eats dry cereal out of the bag with his bare hands and washes it down with everclear. alastor politely eats rotting deer corpses alone in his swamp room while listening to ragtime; the most his lazy ass will do is conjure up food with magic if asked. coincidentally this is also what lucifer does when he remembers to eat at all.

but you know who both knows how to cook and does so frequently, because they enjoy it? sir pentious and niffty. they baked and decorated those cookies for lucifer's visit together. pentious approaches his recipes with the same eccentric creativity he uses for his machines, and prior to his arrival niffty was the ONLY one single-handedly keeping that kitchen free of cobwebs. they whipped up some truly fantastic family dinners for everyone during the months leading up to extermination day.

after pentious dies, niffty stops cooking in the kitchen. she doesn't like to cook alone anymore; doesn't really see the point.

[thefandomenchantress]

So I watched Hazbin Hotel, (or at least the episodes out so far). And I wasn’t that attached to Vox in the pilot because he was only there for two seconds but he’s now my favorite. I can’t help it he’s so pathetic.

Also I love whenever the animators have him make this face:

Why does he look like a cat??? I noticed the soundwave on his hat looks kinda like cat ears and now I can’t unsee it. How am I supposed to take him seriously when he wears that hat and is constantly making a :3 face? /lh

[doffies]

i imagine family photos are a nightmare for them