#with my left hand

[theoriginofcarrots]

I don't feel like swimming this morning

Charcoal pencil drawings on paper

ALSO POSTED ON AO3 - onnakarot

[leaf4e]

someone yell at me Not to needlefelt another fish or mob yet

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

mycenaean miku

she was there singing on the beaches of llion. homer copied the catalogue of ships from her.

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

And lemme know your age (if you feel comfortable!), and when you got your first phone in the tags!

If these options are scuffed I'm sorry, I genuinely have no clue how many phones people are "supposed" to have had (hence the poll)

[narwhalsarefalling]

my mother taught me to crochet when i was young. she was left handed, so she taught me how in the bathroom mirror so her hands would be in the right position.

she learned to crochet from her grandmother, who was right handed. her grandma was the one that originally used the bathroom mirror to teach her granddaughter properly.

i find something poetic about that. here in this bathroom mirror, through generations, we adapt to our young who have a different way of learning and interacting with the world

[hinamie]

the new jjk cafe fits have been living in my head . no thoughts except yuuji in a letterman

[im-yotsu]

🏳️‍🌈HAPPY PRIDE!!!🏳️‍⚧️

Fuck you Disney these characters are queer :)

Commission info

Version with my headcanon individual pride flags under the cut:

It's ok to disagree with my headcanons, just don't be a prick

Also, yes, this is the return of the Kalluzeb boob meme

[pinacoladamatata]

"I've seen the way you look at him... You're in it."

they shouldn't kiss. they shouldn't kiss at all. they're going to kiss a whole lot

[couldreallyeatawholecakerightnow]

Did not realize polls were timed...no wonder y'all be asking for rebogs

Anyway tell me about ur jewelry in the tags if u wanna!!

[itsmeglycine]

[thebrainrotsreal]

Drew this real quick because I fucking love these two so much ???? Especially Bee. I wish they interacted more so badly. PLEASE.

Also learning how to draw these guys.. slowly.

[theoriginofcarrots]

Back home to you

H50 Secret Santa

This is my Secret Santa gift to @cowandcalf

A little bird told me what you wanted as a gift: “love love love ;) & art with the two in love or great lyric. I love SEAL Steve”.

Steve was called to the reserves. Two weeks ago. He has been away (who knows where), doing exercises (he already has a six-pack but anyway…) and probably going on super dangerous secret missions without backup (better not to think about it). He hasn’t been able to call a lot (it sounds like a lousy excuse. Everybody knows the ARMY has an excellent and reliable communications network, thank you very much).

Danny has been in command of the H50, working hard with Chin and Kono to successfully solve 237 cases in 15 days (OMG! Hawaii is too much!). All has been completed in a competent and tasteful manner, professionally executed. No big explosions (just one or two; medium size), no bazookas (no, that thing wasn’t a bazooka; it was a portable flamethrower), no grenades (ok, Steve left another one in the Camaro’s driver side door pocket but that doesn’t count). All the paperwork is done and sent. On time! Danny is amazing and also very very tired right now. Exhausted. After a long 360-hours shift he just can drive himself home, go upstairs and take his clothes off (with the exception of his pineapple infested boxers, Grace’s gift for father’s day. Of course he loves the boxers very much. They are wonderful, perfect). Danny falls asleep in his bed (their bed) exactly in two and a half seconds.

Danny swears he will never wake up. But maybe he will because a certain navy seal in the reserves suddenly decides to come back home, his home (their home) in the middle of the night. He goes upstairs and takes his clothes off (with the exception of his camo boxers, Grace’s gift for father’s day. Of course he loves the boxers very much. They are wonderful, perfect). Steve gets into his bed (their bed) quietly.

I hope you like the gift! I mean the drawing; my writing skills are poor, I know. But I just wanted to tell a little story.

Many thanks to @goneahead for making this festive exchange possible. A big hug!

Charcoal pencils drawing on paper

Onnakarot on AO3

[coywolfcollections]

Mustelids! (Prints available here)

[vmkhoneyy]

I think if I could be the kind stranger in someone’s memory, that’d be enough.

[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-phantom-peach]

another modern zelink dump because I like them and epona is cute <3