#my. heart.
Text
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
FYI, if the version of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” you’re listening to doesn’t include the “until then we’ll just have to muddle through somehow” line, you’re doing it wrong.
#was arguing with my brother about this earlier#he was like ‘I’ve never ever heard that’#and I was like ‘you sit on a throne of lies but k’#IT’S ABOUT THE SAD.#unless you’re listening specifically to Christmas Bops (valid)#the best Christmas songs have a little bit of Sad to them#this is also the reason Snow by Sleeping At Last had taken over my heart#’though pieces go missing may we still feel whole’#MY. HEART.#anyway for HYAMLC I like the Christina Perri version#but you can choose the version that best suits you#so long as it has the ‘muddle through’ lyric#thank you and goodnight ❤️
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
“you can definitely see the tree, what are you looking for?”
“... laudna.”
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
He was still convinced that his idea was better, but he supposed he saw the benefit of something more permanent as opposed to a short, fleeting life. Shinobu and her big, beautiful brain — it was because of her that Yoimiya was pulled aside during her birthday festivities and handed over a box the size of her head rather than a wire bug cage.
“Look, I'm — I'm not great at giving gifts 'cause I usually dunno what people like. I mean, aside from my boys. I've been makin' loads of friends lately, but. . . none of 'em have been like you. Every day I'm learnin' something new about you, and it's making me like you more and more.”
Awkwardly, Itto stood a little straighter and scratched at the wild mane of hair on his head. “I told myself I wasn't going to get all ramble-y. Ahh, just open it already! C'mon, it's good! No, it's amazing! I promise!”
The box was only marginally bigger than the gift itself, but that was because the gift was wider than it was tall. Sitting at the bottom was a gorgeously painted and polished onikabuto carved from various woods across not only Inazuma, but all of Teyvat.
“Isn't it the sickest thing you've ever seen?!” He was getting excited just looking at it. His boyish glee got the better of him, and he pulled the onikabuto from its box. He was careful as he set it in his large palm, the wood warm under the light of a slowly dozing sun. “Look, the wings can open! You can set the legs how you want too, so it can sit wherever you want, however you want.”
He pried the wings open, the thicker and ordinary shell portion giving away to allow brightly colored, vibrantly painted thinner pieces to fan out. “I didn't carve all of this 'cause it would have taken me for-ever, but I painted this part. It's supposed to look like the sky when your fireworks are going off, but I'm not the best at painting.”
It wasn't terrible. If she squinted, she might see that there was meant to be a black sky behind the slathered on mess of yellows, oranges red and whites.
“I wanted to get you a real beetle, but Shinobu said this will last longer.” He huffed proudly through his nose and held the elaborate piece for her to take. “Happy Birthday, babe!! I hope you're ready to par-tay!!”
It wasn't of her own volition that her birthday was known -- whilst never turning down attention, it was kind of hard to dispute that whenever you worked in the firework business, one of the loudest, brightest things imaginable! -- it wasn't something Yoimiya made a note of, usually. Projects needed finishing, festivals were being planned, and she had kids to hang out with! They, most often, were the ones that remembered the day, greeting her with a smile, a confection, and a you didn't remember it was your birthday?!
Likewise... it was the first time she and the Oni had been close enough to celebrate one another's birthday. One or the other was usually off, skipping 'round someplace, their own methods of trouble catching up with them before their candles could be blown out, and it was only whenever a shout (likely heard across the entirety of Inazuma, no, Teyvat!) rang out that Yoimiya had turned, met by a head of hair she knew only one had, met by a smile that only he had. With how bright he shined, how could Yoimiya have noticed, quite possibly, the world's biggest gift?!
(She did notice, of course... after Itto called attention to it. Can't blame a girl for being in awe, can you?)
“Oooooh! -- but, Itto, I thought you were saving your Mora?” tick, tick, tick... “Whaaat?! You were saving it for this?! I thought you'd lost a bet or something! Or, well, probably three bets, going by the size of this—” clank, Yoimiya shifted the box around in her hands, just so: not enough to damage any delicates, but enough to gauge what could be lurking inside. “Woahhh, it sounds heavy! And-and feels heavy!”
Pop! went the lid, and brought into Itto's careful hands...
“Whoaaa...” jaw slack, Yoimiya watched attentively, spying every colorful twinkle, watching how the sun danced off of every swipe of beautifully blended paint. “Itto, you didn't - you - you would - AAH!”
Shaking with excitement, she took a leap, making up for their distance and swinging her arms 'round his neck! Careful of potentially knocking free her gift (how was that hers?! she thought of one, five, ten different places she could place it, all for visitors, the world to see!), she breathed in the scent of a soft, woodsy fragrance, the smell of freshly trimmed grass, and hot concrete; all compiled to create the smell of home. Nudging her legs to lock 'round his waist - while she had no doubt Itto could carry ten Yoimiyas', the weight being off-balance would proobably make it hard? - she peppered loud, loving smooches 'cross his jawline, his cheeks, kissing along every red streak, happiness washing over her in waves.
“Itto, seriously, you didn't have to do all of this - and I knoww, I knoww, 'you're my girl! I'd do it anyway!' but, but - I just,” eye-level, she placed one more kiss, right at his lips. “Thank you. Seriously! This is so, so, so cool, I dunno' how the whole world hasn't heard about it yet! Guess we'll have to start at telling everyone at this party, huh?”
Nose-to-nose, Yoimiya hoped her smile was felt, as well as seen. For Itto to know how truly, truly happy he had made her, gift or no gift.
“I love you, you big, stubborn oni. Aaand ~ I love this! A whole, whole, super lot! We have to show the kids first, they're going to go crazy!!”
@xamassed, for Yoimiya's birthday (6/21). ♥
#xamassed#asks‚ yoimiya.#MY HEAAART#MY HEART#MY. HEART.#ARIEL YOU'VE KILLED ME. ENDED ME. I'M ON THE GROUND. PLEASE DON'T BURY ME YET--#THIS IS SO FREAKING SWEET AND JUST ;__;#THANK YOU FOR WANTING TO SHIP WITH MY GAL; she'd adore this oni boyfriend or not either way! BUT STILL#I know you might think me saying 'honor' is a bit much but it seriously is!! You're the biggest ray of sunshine; and I'm lucky to be able t#be in that light. c: <3#I'll save that for the spam of love I'm about to send though. Mehehehe#Thank you!!! <3
1 note
·
View note
Text
young artist posting your work online, heed my warning. im holding your face so gently in my hands, you have to stop caring about numbers right now and start caring about making the weirdest and most self-indulgent art you possibly can
#text!#idk the trend of twt artists pretending to be stealing their own art to get engagement rly broke my heart#like nooo!!! the joy of art is in the making!!!!! its not in the reaction!!
44K notes
·
View notes
Text
34K notes
·
View notes
Text
"free palestine," he shouted until his last breath.
aaron bushnell, we will never forget you.
as much as bushnell's actions has moved us all, please seek other ways to take actionable measures against the injustices we face in the world. none of us wanted him gone, and the least we can do is prevent another such tragedy by supporting each other in our efforts to enact lasting change.
#aaron bushnell#the boy with his heart on fire#this is in no way intended to glorify his actions#i do not condone self immolation as an act of protest but i cannot deny that it is something that causes an impact#and it has struck a chord within us all#we must not let his death be in vain#free palestine#my art#original
22K notes
·
View notes
Text
I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
#shut up e#long post#Saturday thoughts#this has been in my drafts for a week haha#also this is the heart of why AI art feels so wrong#forget the discussion of copyright and theft etc - even if models were only trained on public domain they would still feel very wrong#because they’re not art. art is the labor of creation#even commercial art and art commissioned by the popes and kings of history: there is humanity in the labor of it#unrelated: I did not know living in the Bronx was now something to brag about. How the fuck do y’all New Yorkers afford this city???
26K notes
·
View notes
Text
god i'm so tired of everybody's bad faith interpretations of everything. where's the trust. where's the forgiveness. where's the understanding that most things are complex and most people have many layers. and like the black eyed peas once said. where is the love
78K notes
·
View notes
Text
It is the middle of a Sunday afternoon. You have nothing on, and aren't expecting visitors, deliveries or post.
Unexpectedly, there is a knock at the door.
you are greeted by...... her
#fairy vs walrus#walrus vs fairy#walrus#why is this so well textured its fucking shitpost art#like why cant i pull this off in my normal art it had to be the walrus fairy#meme art#things that would give people outside of tumblr a heart attack#maybe#has the fairy vs walrus debate breached containment yet#also that generic girl i drew ended up looking a lot like how i look irl (yes i look like an npc)#also that door is unreasonably large but i needed you to be able to see the walrus in all her glory#i wanted it to be bigger so you could see her wings#fairy walrus#dragon draws creatures
19K notes
·
View notes
Text
Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.
Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.
RIP decency indeed.
#Archive of our Own#Ao3#Ao3 Comments#Writing#Fanfiction#Fanfic Writing#I wrote over 100k on that fic before burnout took hold#I poured my heart into what I did manage to finish#adhd’s a bitch that doesn’t always let me write what I want to write but I got that far#don’t make me feel ashamed because you didn’t get to see the ending
44K notes
·
View notes
Text
I have had it with this likescolding. “Tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm so likes don’t actually do anything” motherfucker I am not clicking that heart to give some post better ~algorithmic visibility~ I am clicking that heart to help my internet friend microdose on serotonin as god fucking intended
#personal#as in this heart means I will personally give you a big ol kiss#I appreciate that you showed me that thing even if it doesn't fit with the vibe of what I put on my tumblog
83K notes
·
View notes
Text
save me winter elliott stardew valley... winter elliott stardew valley save me......
#my art#stardew valley#stardew fanart#sdv elliott#artists on tumblr#1.6 spoilers#we all knew this was coming#drew him in the turtleneck that i know in my heart of hearts he's wearing under that scarf#[clenches fists] Do You Ever Love A Man
19K notes
·
View notes
Text
My Mane 6 Redesigns all together! I was going to post them separately but ended up finishing them all before I got around to it lol
#mlp#my little pony friendship is magic#my little pony#mlp fim#mlp redesign#earth pony twilight truthers where are you#bat pony fluttershy truthers where are you#dark color palette rarity truthers where are you#ALL OF YOU RISE WITH ME#im ESPECIALLY an earth pony twilight truther ever since I saw the old G5 concepts#I love the idea that Twilight's bonds with others are her true magic rather than beams or spells and I feel earth pony twi fits that well#since “the five elements brought together creates the sixth element magic“ aka friendship since FIM she embodies ”magic“ in a#more metaphorical sense#the star in her eyes is also a reference to the first ep when twilight says “the spark” ignited inside of her heart#plus the earth pony to alicorn pipeline is so cool and i like the idea of an earth pony being the bearer of the element of magic as a#fun contrast/its unexpected
17K notes
·
View notes
Text
Palestinian girls take part in a ballet dancing course, run by the Al-Qattan Center for Children in Gaza on Nov. 25, 2015. (Reuters)
20K notes
·
View notes
Text
unfortunately if you are an old friend of mine i will always care about you no matter what even if we haven't seen each other in forever because i still remember what you were like 7 years ago and i still remember how it felt to be young with you and i still have a lot of love for you in the back of my mind
88K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
alicebeingalice
Welcome to my shit hole!!!
usachanchokawaii
心がうんこ
delicate-devon
Devon♡
yonkerscleanair
Yonkers Clean Air
mz-elysium
ely writes.