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.

We don’t give kid Jason enough credit for going from random street kid to a gymnast good enough to convincingly pass as Dick Grayson in under a year.

i love people who write for underrated characters and fandoms. i love people who barely get 100 notes and keep posting. keep writing. keep doing what they love and not letting lack of interaction completely hinder their enjoyment on here. you’re strong. you’re valid. you’re literally the backbone of the writing community on here!!!!

Curt Mega and Corey Dorris as the jocks literally steal the show. Actually they kind of kill it in literally every role. There is just this massive goofy smile on my face whenever I see them onstage. fucking transcendent indeed

ex-teenage South Park yaoi fangirl is such a specific vibe. I swear we can sniff out each other's embarrassing histories due to a fate-bonded kinship. we just know

not really an ask, just a thank you for all the amazing Ogerpon content you provide us with 🙏

IT IS MORE THAN MY PLEASURE IT IS MY DUTY!!! Also heeey nice profile picture! >v>

Birthday post for my beloved B @stevesbipanic Eddie will never forget the day he found out Steve could sing.

He'd gone over to Steve's house to surprise him, using the key his boyfriend had given him not long after they officially started dating. Eddie had opened the door to music, loud and so very Steve. He'd walked into the kitchen to find Steve in the middle of cooking dinner, hips swaying. It wasn't an unusual sight. What caught Eddie off guard was the voice he could only describe as angelic. Something about it sounded so unlike Steve and it caused Eddie to stand still in the doorway, watching his boyfriend.

When Steve finally turned around, he jumped, face turning that pretty pink Eddie liked so much. He'd laughed awkwardly, clearly embarrassed. Eddie had simply walked over and pulled Steve in, complementing his voice between kisses. Steve later admitted that he never sang in front of anyone, too self-conscious of his voice. Eddie had stumbled across the magic of Steve's singing, meant for no one, but a gift he had all to himself.

Years later, he and Steve are happily living together in their cozy little house. Steve's a teacher at a local middle school and Eddie is riding the success Corroded Coffin has made for themselves. Their both content with where they are in life and sometimes Eddie can't believe he made it this far.

Steve is still just as gorgeous as the day Eddie fell for him. Robin constantly teases them for how grossly in love they are. And ever since Eddie found out Steve could sing he has treasured every little musical sound his boyfriend has made. Steve has a frankly adorable habit of subconsciously humming or singing whatever song Eddie's been working on recently and it makes Eddie positively melt. He tries his best to memorise the lyrics to all of Corroded Coffin's music and listens to every demo Eddie produces.

Eventually, Eddie manages to convince Steve to come and record himself singing in their at-home studio. Steve's still apprehensive about it, but Eddie promises it's for fun and drags him inside. They fuck around for hours, losing track of time as Steve sings through his favourite songs, then parts of Eddie's favourite songs, and then some of Corroded Coffin's songs. Eddie listens with a grin on his face the whole time, reassuring Steve when he needs it. Right at the end, Steve starts singing Eddie's newest work in progress. It's quiet and slightly slower than the original but it's sweet and Eddie eats it up. He sits, pretending to fiddle as he listens. It's his favourite sound in the world.

A month later, with an idea that's been brewing in his mind for several weeks, Eddie nonchalantly asks Steve how he'd feel if he could share his musical talent with the world, without anyone knowing it was him. Steve seems suspicious but answers anyway. It's all Eddie needs.

He secretly adds the small audio clips of Steve singing his newest work in progress, due to come out in the next few months. His bandmates pick it out, knowing it doesn't sound like Eddie or any of them but, despite knowing Steve well, can't pick that it's him. It's perfect and Eddie publishes the song like that. Steve's vocals are there, soft and airy in the background. Not too noticeable but loud enough that they add a little something extra to the song.

Now, Eddie knows Corroded Coffin fans are a little rabid. They're scarily observant, especially when it comes to picking hidden shit out of their songs. But Eddie didn't expect the insane reaction Steve's vocals have on the fanbase. People lose their shit. They love it. Love the tone and airy quality of it. They demand more. The best part is the mystery it creates around who it is. The fans argue over whether or not it's Eddie or the other band members. Some believe it's none of them, a secret 5th person left uncredited. Eddie stays silent on the discourse, absolutely loving the chaos it's creating amongst their fans.

Steve himself is confused. A small group of his students who he knows are fans of Corroded Coffin have been debating for days. He can't help but listen in, always interested in the little gossip he can gleam about Eddie's band. They turn to him one day as he's listening in and ask for his opinion, getting him to listen to the new song for the first time. He's sure he gasps when he hears his own goddamn voice singing back at him. It's quiet, sure, but Steve's surprised his students haven't figured out it's him yet. They seem to like it though, and while Steve's a little mad that Eddie put them in there without asking, he feels more than a little warm when he realises how much care Eddie put into including Steve in something he loved whilst making sure it wasn't too obvious. Still, though, Steve feels like he wants to simultaneously punch Eddie and kiss him till they’re both gasping for air.

Nobody can blame him if he goes home later that day and does both.

The danganronpa writers really created a character who was the complete antithesis to hope’s peak and some major characters in later games only to pretty much play him for laughs and then kill him off early.

silly little man. representing the very thing the evil organization stood against and actively tried to prove wrong. and yet was still invited to be a part of their school. only to die. silly taka.

(000606) happy birthday haechan 🎂

He loves her so much🥺🥺😭

Applied for my first Big Girl job after five years of grinding at this PhD (the end is in sight!!), and guess what folks— my degree actually supplied me with skills relevant to the job posting. My skills are needed. There’s a place out there for me. The utter shock of it all!!

My piece for the @souyozine !! :D

Leftover sales are now open, so grab a copy while you still can! :P

Being a part of this zine is my personal highlight of the year, it's been SO MUCH FUN and everyone did a FANTASTIC job and aklsdfghjk-

It's been an honour Souyo Fam <3

hello everyone 🔞

me and my friend oftentimes talk about tfp ratchet. and by "talk" i mean engage in direct sexual harassment. anyways, i made grandpa squirt

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO CYBER FIELDS BEST MUSICAL TRIO AND THE LAST RESISTANCE AGAINST THE BIG BAD QUEEN !!!!!!!!!!!!!

imo i think someone should run an aphmau-confessions account so we can get some actual controversial opinions. some of you will fumble over yourselves to say, "i don't like the love triangle" and it's like ??? daring today, aren't we

Down the rabbit hole we go!

I know what I said about the rest of the Lunar chronicles art, but have you considered: I wanted to rewrite Miraculous Ladybug to my tastes instead?? so here. have bunny miraculous felix, or better known as Lapin Blanc.