Today is Giving Tuesday!! Help us give the gift of housing security for 50+ families across the country!

Donate to Rent for Moms with Reparations Roundtable!

We at RR are raising $2000 today, and I am hoping to raise $100!

Send funds to Paypal.me/ReparationsR with "giving tuesday" in the memo.

Can you share widely, give, and comment below when you've donated so we can tally here? Together we can celebrate the season by giving housing security.

I also have Venmo (@amanda-darer) and Cashapp ($teababe27) if you prefer using those!

#GivingTuesday #RentForMoms #homefortheholidays

I'm thrilled to be a part of the "Home Sweet Home" Virtual Craft Fair until December 15th!

This holiday season, discover unique handmade creations and participate in community care. All items purchased before December 13th will arrive just in time for December 24th! 🎁🌟

But here's the heart of it. 🤝 I'm proud to share that proceeds from my sales will benefit "Rent For Moms," a grassroots initiative led by Black Women and other marginalized genders (MaGes). 🌈💪

Rent for Moms focuses on centering the family, redistributing resources, and empowering Moms. This campaign aims to raise at least $100,000 to help Black moms pay rent this holiday season. 🏡💖

Let's make a difference together! Invest in Black joy this holiday season and make it your tradition. 🌟 Join me in supporting Rent For Moms and finding the perfect handmade gifts at the "Home Sweet Home" Virtual Craft Fair. 🎀🎄

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.

but where is the college au of kabru being completely unhinged about this one classmate who he said hi once and he didnt respond so kabru became convinced he is evil and surely also cheats in exams because he cant be that much of airhead and also be acing advanced biology.

also he is living with these posh former private school twinks and all of them but once leave for some posh kid business and swear him into caring for their friend for that one week they are away, they pay his rent after all (his mom set it up), so he feels forced to become a caretaker for this dude and oh no he has clinical depression

I am in tears

they had to pause their morning workout to drive wash to the ER at 7 am bc he somehow got hit by a car while getting mail. there's traffic. maine fiddles with the radio and carolina is imagining herself parkouring over the other cars

some white rabbit fest stuff and fave scenes 🐰 they are so dear to me aauaghuaghu also MAMA SPADE HELLO also prefects bunny fit 🦐

Them cuddling and hugging 💘

so grateful to be a balanced mix of arab and american culture. the way american culture handles family is so fucking cold

Can any of y'all help me to get some food for the week?

$mikkythekid

Venmo: mikkythekid

Paypal.me/mtsibu

Something that t muir did right by John’s brown dadness was him giving Kiriona a name from his language. It’s literally what my lolo said when he met my mom for the first time in his 80s - “I wish I had known about you. I would have raised you. I would have given you a name.”

My mom came in while I was setting them up and said, in a tired and incredulous voice, "You're 25 and you're still playing with animals"

I wonder if it's a design choice or the devs themselves can't make up their mind, but why did Solomon's eye colour "change" in NB? The chibi sprites in the OG show his eyes are shades of grey to brown/almost gold-bronze.

The NB chibi sprite shows his eyes to be dark blue and brownish-gold.

Don't even get me started with the cards and merch that can't make up his effing eye colour

To my Solobesties (I'm calling Solomon stans this now. I think we formed a strange kinship after lesson 17 even if we never interact lmao), especially artist solobesties, hats off to you and your service to the community.

My personal HC is kinda a spoiler for uhhhh something I'm writing, but here it is:

"It's just…your eyes are like you: I can't figure them out." "MC, I-" "No! No! Solomon, I'm sorry! No…it's not like that, I promise! Look at me, won't you? Please look at me." So he did. His eyes trembled as he met with yours. How could he have hidden this part of himself for this long? How could you not notice? How could you forget? How could Father be so cruel to him and you for simply existing? You traced the corner of his lips with your thumb as you held him by the cheek. He was leaning onto your right hand, unable to maintain his gaze. He was surprisingly bashful. Adorably shy without his facades. But he looked like he would crumble even with a gentle word so you did not say anything. He looked at you expectantly, then looked away as your gaze burned onto him for too long and muttered, "You can't figure me out?"in almost a whisper, after a long-drawn out silence, weighing in his words, watching your expressions and body language. Afraid, so deathly afraid. You smiled. "It's like I'm looking at a mirror. Sometimes it's silver, sometimes it's midnight. When you look at the world around you and then look back at me, I feel like you've captured the sky and the oceans in your eyes. It's beautiful." His face was red all over, even to the tips of his ears. It was such a shame. You haven't even said everything you wanted to say to him yet. That he was the moon and the stars to your daytime; gold and silver gazes, looking after you from afar in the many branches of realities he couldn't be as honest with you as he was now. Ah. What will you do without him now? How can you give this up after remembering everything? You knew it was selfish, but you love him. Both of him. Every part of him just as much as he loved you and every part of you that existed. But now, you had to say goodbye. Again. How truly unfair.

something about airport minho makes me giggle and stare the screen and scream and cry and worship and jksdhksjhfksjda

I'm going to share something extremely silly that happened to me today and that made my whole "back to work day", bearable and amusing!

I shared this OMR Beauty post in my instagram story, thinking I was only sharing it to my "close friends" aka my sister but accidentally posted for everyone to see and got more comments on it than whenever I post a personal picture lmao

My message was "LOOOK AT HIM!!!! 😍😍" (in Spanish) and the comments I got were like "I AM LOOKING" and "I CAN'T STOP LOOKING! 😍" lmao

Didn't know so many of my instagram acquaintances had such good taste in men, to be honest, but even my more conservative friend was like "Who is him and where can I find more about him?" LMAO

My friend who rewatched Young Royals with me also told me she always forgets how beautiful Omar is until she looks at him again? lol I don't know how she can forget about it, I think about Omar being the most gorgeous man in this planet all the time 🤭

Ohh and my sister's actual comment? "Okay I get it. I don't share it but I get it. And showing skin in the middle of winter, wow Omar Rudberg wow" lol