#yes i also write

[kuro-is-doodlin]

Still alive, a silly lil fic

[spoiler for in stars and time after the cut, up to the end of act 4]

Loop 1020

You can barely move anymore... Barely speak. Your throat is sore, sharp, you feel a hundred needles constantly piercing into your flesh. Your body hurts, shakes like it's about to fall apart every time you try to walk, and when you do, you usually collapse within a few minutes. You've been stuck in that clearing for, how long?... you can't.. remember.. but if you had to guess, you'd say you haven't got up on your feet in around a week.

You haven't made them happy, in a long, looong time.

You can't.

They don't believe your smile anymore, your act, but you can't blame them.. Have you looked at yourself recently? There's no way anyone would believe you're fine, because you're not....

You're not.

YOU'RE NOT! YOU WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE!!

YOU CAN'T TAKE IT ANY LONGER !!....

...

You breathe. Try to, at least. It doesn't work as well as before but... It does the trick, It... calms you down, a little.. Just enough.. To keep going...      

…

You can't make them happy anymore, they can't become stronger.. So what? This script didn't work anyway... And all you can do now is worry them, every time they see you... They ask what is wrong, why you're so tired when, "yesterday", you looked fine as usual...Why you speak even less...

It’s pathetic. You've become quite the bad actor, Siffrin.

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

hello, sexiest man alive committee? yes I'd love to nominate Lou Wilson and Brian Murphy for attempting to speed-write an actual in-universe 300-word essay in 5 minutes of real time as Fabian and Riz posing as Fabian with complete earnest and a 120 percent commitment. both this effort and the incredibly smooth hand-off in the middle of it was maybe the most attractive thing i've ever seen a man do

yes it's a dungeons and dragons show. don't put me on hold. hello

[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.

[cracklewink]

Harmony Syndrome Part 5/5

The last chapter of my mlp infection AU! Thank you to everyone who followed along. Some final thoughts on my twitter @cracklewink if anyone's interested : )

[bluerosefox]

Mama Bat

There was a baby in the Batcave.

There was a baby in the Batcave.

There was a glowing, white haired, Lazarus green eyed baby floating in the freaking Batcave!

A baby that was currently wearing a superhero themed footy pajamas and making tiny circles in the air as they coo and make spit bubbles.

A baby Cass had found while on patrol... in Hong Kong before suddenly and somehow appearing in Gotham. In the Batcave.

Along with them, sitting innocently on the batcomputer chair was a baby bag (themed after Black Bat somehow) full of everything a baby needed a glowing green sticky note with purple handwriting on it.

'Cassandra Cain-Wayne

Take care of our little Ghostling. Everything will make sense in due time.

P.S Daniel enjoys the stars.

-CW'

By the time Bruce finished reading the note aloud, Cass had manged to get a hold of the baby who was making happy noises and patting her cheek.

And a second later a blinding light overtook the baby and once the light was gone, the baby now had black hair and bright blue eyes.

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[astralleywright]

spent like an hour trying to find a post abt the disparity of origin companion's content in bg3 and couldn't so, hey, this fucking sucks

[the-raindeer-king]

Simon and Price are the kind of guys that insist on paying for everything on a vacation. They're paying for the hotel, the rental car, food, any stupid knickknacks you want. If you even pull out your wallet, they're going to be all huffy. John will politely tell you not to worry about, he's got you covered. On the hand, Simon's taking your wallet from you, telling you that you don't need to spend your money, you've got him for that.

Johnny and Kyle don't mind splitting things with you. You pay for the hotel, he'll pay for the flights, dividing out the expenses so you've both got money for the actual trip. Johnny gets all lovey-dovey when you buy him things, jokes that you're spoiling him. But don't fret, he'll get you back later. Gaz gets all warm and fuzzy when you pay for dinner, staring at you with a lovestruck expression. He thinks it's so sweet, and it's just one more push towards finally pulling the ring out of his pocket.

[cryptid-cave]

Currently thinking about a reader who, while having a full-time job and playing the part of a “real adult” pretty well for the most part, is still kind of lost and pathetic. It feels less like they’re living and more like they’re surviving, getting by on their own with just a cat for company.

Enter John Price, who’s currently on medical leave and just itching for a project. Maybe reader works at a store near his home that he shops at almost every other day, or works at the library where he goes when he needs to get out of the house. Either way, he spots this pretty little thing who clearly needs some love and guidance, preferably from a strong, gentle hand - and who better to do that than him?

Anyways, save me bossy and demanding Price with a savior complex, save me

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Begging swifties to understand that Taylor didn’t write reputation and Lover with the knowledge of how the relationship was going to end and that trying to “excavate” those albums for evidence to prove a specific theory as to why it ended is not how they should be viewed. Taylor wrote those songs feeling a very specific way because that’s what she was experiencing and she is now reflecting on them with hindsight and relates to them differently than when she first created them. These conflicting emotions can exist; how she views it now doesn’t diminish how she felt about it when she first released it.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

woke up and someone spilled vanilla extract all over my dash, so as punishment you strange little beasties are getting all the VANILLA FACTS i know:

vanilla is the 2nd most expensive spice in the world (2nd to saffron)

which is why more than 99% of what we call "vanilla extract" is actually vanillin (vanilla's dominant flavor compound) and is not extracted from real vanilla.

luckily, even professionals struggle to tell the difference when it comes to things like baked goods. but there is a distinct difference in non-heat treated products like vanilla ice cream. real vanilla has a more complex, individualized flavor profile.

why is vanilla so expensive? because it is a ridiculously delicate & demanding crop. complete primadonna.

vanilla beans come from vanilla orchids. these crazy flowers bloom for A SINGLE DAY and have to be HAND-POLLINATED in a process that is exhausting, delicate, and requires specialist knowledge passed down over generations.

then, if you're lucky, you get vanilla beans.

which then require months of further specialized treatment.

the entire process takes about a year and can go wrong at any stage

vanilla has been cultivated for over 800 years (possibly much longer). the first known cultivators are the Totonac, an indigenous people of Mexico.

the Aztecs used it as a sweetener to balance out the bitter taste of cocoa. it was popular in a drink called xocolatl--the precursor to modern hot chocolate!

it is only pollinated by a very specific orchid bee!!!

which is why no fruit could be grown outside of Mexico until the 1800s

Edmond Albius, born into slavery, invented the pollination method we still use today--launching a global industry when he was just 12 years old.

today, the majority of the world's vanilla is grown in Madagascar

if you want real vanilla, read the labels carefully--it's harder to find than you think!

in conclusion, those tiny black specks you see in fancy vanilla ice cream? those are vanilla bean seeds! itty bitty orchid seeds!!! they are delicious and also a PRISSY BITCH!

(src)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

they tried to rebrand as The Criminals but riz is literally the city council's treasurer and also turns out people in their late 20s don't really name their friend groups. so now they're The Intrepid Heroes

[tinukis]

day 5 - little brother

so incredibly self indulgent but yeah anyway... little brother w his three older brothers

(please more asl + uta/asul bros please)

[wasyago]

kakashi and bull 🥺🤲