in bed absolutely fucked up on pillow and blanky

it's actually really embarrassing how you're trying to flee my haunted castle right now

thinking about that one video

You can’t let this stupid ass evil world rob you of your vibe don’t let them do that to u

on identity, healing the inner child, fursonas, and cringe culture

i hate all FNV mods that restore/add an option to convince Mr. House to broker a truce between himself and the Brotherhood of Steel because it's not just a symptom of a completionist, goopy goblin gamer brain that doesn't want to miss out on any of the CONTENT, but also because Mr. House's inflexibility on his desire to see the Brotherhood of Steel exterminated is such a significant character moment. Because it's a moment where this autocrat who views himself as purely rational, purely objective, and purely motivated by an altruistic desire to protect (what he thinks are) the best interests of humanity is forced to let his mask slip in front of the lackey on which he completely depends. He has zero reasonable rationale to want the Brotherhood destroyed and he knows it, he just hates them, and he hates them just because he thinks that they're just fucking lame. He, personally, finds the cultish medieval technoknight schtick obnoxious enough to justify total obliteration, and the fact that he will not back down on this is supposed to be revealing! It makes sense, too, if you understand how aesthetically driven his vision for the future of Vegas and humanity is and how badly a bunch of LARPers in power armor wandering around outside clashes with that aesthetic (he is, literally, a RETVRN guy, except he wants to "retvrn" to everybody looking like they're going to see the Rat Pack perform in concert). Mr. House's stubbornness on this issue is intentionally frustrating, especially if you're someone who up to this point may have found him otherwise agreeable! The Brotherhood of Steel is also something of a mirror, or a competitor even, to Mr. House's vision of himself as the sole worthy heir to the splendor of pre-war technology and control thereof, but that's actually far less important than the fact that he just hates their pussy

bang bang

I am being 100% serious btw, BP coined the term "carbon footprint" and the shift from corporations to individuals as the cause of climate change was backed by fossil fuel companies. This is not a conspiracy theory, it's a well recorded fact that you can easily confirm with a quick google search.

"Carbon footprints" are corporate propaganda. Taking shorter showers and planting flowers will not save our planet as long as these companies are allowed to mow down forests, turn grasslands into monoculture farms, turn wetlands into dust bowl housing developments, fill our oceans with oil and trash, and dump their toxic shit wherever they want.

reblog to reblog from the person you reblogged from

Me when I use the blender that makes 50% of all turtles feel immeasurable pain

I can't be the first to make this connection

somehow the poor cops who we were told are simply too understaffed and underpaid because of Woke to deal with 'rampant rising crime' have found the strength to beat the shit out of college students across the whole country for peacefully saying "divest from the country killing innocent palestinians in the tens of thousands"

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.

Made the worst brownies ever created just now