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#hurtful hands
inkskinned · 7 months
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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.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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majunju · 4 months
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it took march 10 minutes to take this photo (they did not understand how to pose their hands)
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nerdpoe · 2 months
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Dick gets his drink mixed up with another persons in the library while visiting Barbara.
He was drinking some kale smoothie thing, for health and stuff, and he set it down to grab a book from the shelf. There was another guy next to him, who also had a smoothie in the same kind of shake-n-go bottle.
They swapped by accident.
Dick checked out his book, said goodbye to Barbara, and took a sip of his smoothie.
That's the last thing he remembers.
He wakes up two days later pinned down by a practically feral Jason, who's eyes are glowing a sickly Lazarus green, with Bruce, Tim, Cass, and Duke all showing signs of losing a fight. He's sore everywhere, and Damian is nowhere to be seen.
"Uh...." his voice cracks, and he's suddenly aware of how fucking painful his throat is. "Hi? What's going on?"
"...Is it really you, Dickwing? I swear to God if it isn't and this is another-"
"Jay I really don't know what's going on, man."
Jason doesn't believe him. Dick is cuffed with anti-meta cuffs and escorted to the cave, where Bruce demands test after test and Dick tells them the last thing he remembers.
Apparently, after taking that sip, his eyes had turned to Lazarus green, and he had beelined for the mansion. Along the way there, he had run into the Riddler.
He had broken most of the Riddler's bones.
That was when everyone had been called in to subdue Dick, who for some strange reason kept gunning for Damian. Hence, Damian was upstairs and not allowed down until they were sure Dick was okay again.
It's concluded that Dick drank some alternate form of Lazarus Water, lost his mind, proceeded to take everyone out with enhanced strength and speed except Jason, who had entered a Pit episode just to keep up, and worked through it two days after consumption.
But who the fuck transported a material as dangerous as modified Lazarus Water in a fucking shake-n-go bottle?
Danny, however, is a little sad that his ecto-shake was stolen by some rando at the library.
Their kale smoothie was pretty good though.
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gascreates · 6 months
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this is the only relationship that matters actually.
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blueskittlesart · 1 year
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i dont have a caption for this one but know that this took me multiple months of work to produce. i hate drawing birds
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adyophene · 14 days
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vongulli · 8 months
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Can't get them all outta my head!!!!!!
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turnipoddity · 5 months
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𝘛𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦
𝘛𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩
𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩
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bi-booklover · 2 years
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repeat after me.
QUEER CHARACTERS ARE NOT PLOT DEVICES FOR STRAIGHT CHARACTERS.
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katiefrog217 · 1 month
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Fraternizing
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inkskinned · 8 months
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they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?
they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.
you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.
you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.
mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.
you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.
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min-play · 5 months
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clapping really loud but can only do it once
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sorieba · 3 months
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I'm sorry. I see you, Nimona
And you are not alone.
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huskyweebo · 2 months
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Kings accidental consort. PT. 1 [ ? ]
Tysm to this blog for inspiring me to make an RadioApple fanfic!
“ So do you Agree on the terms. “ Lucifer affirmed, folding his arms as if saying to not agree. He and Alastor were on the patio; the only quiet place in the now bustling hotel,
“ yes yes, “ The radio demon said somewhat dismissively, “ I would only act as a parent to dear Charlie when you are not here, “ he repeated.
A sudden, odd thought came to Lucifer, “ just like divorced dads, “ he heard in his head, making him snicker slightly, Alastor tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, “ what seems to be hilarious your Majesty, surely not our agreement “ he proceeded to hold out his hand, Lucifer grasped it.
“ oh nothing, I was just thinking that this deal seems like we act like a sort of divorced couple, and how it would be funny if we were actually, truly married “ they shook hands, around them powerful rays of light signaled a deal being made by an Overlord and King.
Downstairs Charlie and Vaggie were heading to their room after letting Angel handle the new guests for a break. Suddenly, the lights darkened around them and Green light was seen, both girls knew that all too well.
“ I’m sorry but who is making a deal with Alastor? “ Charlie asked. Vaggie raised an eyebrow
“ wait didn’t your dad go up with Alastor a couple minutes ago? … oh shit, “ Vaggie muttered, she grabbed Charlie’s hand and rushed up the stairs leading to the patio where Lucifer had said he will be. The was a lot of commotion behind the closed doors, Charlie kicked it open and ready to fight.
“ -re you shitting me! What is this?! This is your fault sinner ! “ Lucifer yelled once Charlie smashed the door open, her father appeared to be wearing a wedding dress, and blushing profusely. Vaggie burst out laughing.
“ well I wasn’t the one who made a frivolous joke about being married, am I ? “ Alastor said. he seemed frustrated, but he still held his smile. He himself was wearing a black tuxedo and holding a bouquet of flowers.
As they argued, both of their hands flared around. Charlie stayed quiet, not wanting to intervene but suddenly noticed wedding bands on each of their clawed hands, putting two and two together, she gasped loudly. She started squealing making both men stop yelling to look at her,
“ oh my gosh, oh my gosh, Vaggie!! Alastor is officially my Father!! They have Ringsss! “ she said shaking her girlfriend, Tears fell from her eyes.
“ ok easy on the sparkles Hon, “ Vaggie said while being shook, she turned to the males with a questioning look,
“ did you guys seriously get married? “ Charlie ran to hug Alastor, “ NEW DAD ! “ she yelled while sobbing madly,
“ What is this? Dear this isn’t for long, His Highness messed up a deal we were making and ended up like this, “ Charlie was peeled off of his body, and her face told them she was hugely disappointed.
“ what but what kind of deal can you botch that badly to- “
“ WELL TIME TO BREAK THIS MARRIGE “ Lucifer interrupted, snapping his fingers.
The wedding garments disappeared for both, Alastor brushed his clothes, “ There you go, the deal should be of- why do I still have another ring. “ Lucifer stretched out his hand in front of him, on top of his old wedding ring that Lilith gave him, there was still the new one. Alastor looked down, he still had his on aswell.
“ Now this is particularly “ he said off handly, “ I thought you had it covered your majesty, “
“ well I do, give me a second “ Lucifer growled,
20 minutes later and everyone was in the palace with Lucifer running everywhere and looking through all the books he can find, he was muttering under his breath frantically similarly to how Charlie did when she was in a panic,
“ HOW IS THERE NOTHING ABOUT STUPID DEAL BREAKS IN THIS SHITHOLE “ Lucifer yelled out from another room and a book could be seen thrown.
“ hmmm “ Alastor hummed through his smile, he enjoyed the little one running around with tarnish, but he knew the fun couldn’t last. He he assured Charlie then went through his shadow and to where Lucifer was.
“ Your highness what seems to be the problem? “ he asked knowing full well the answer to his own question. Lucifer looked like a complete mess: both his horns and wings were out and he wore a crazed expression,
“ well, funny thing, well um- “ he stammered, then flew up and took another book out of a shelf instead of answering him.
Alastor waited for him to come down, he was like a prissy baby and currently, he knew not that Alastor could hear him from down below. The king cursed him out and his past living self. The book he previously had in his hand fell with a slam right next to Alastor, Lucifer cursed even more and flew higher, deep into the high rise library, Alastor went to pick up the book but immediately dropped it when it burned his skin through his gloves.
It was a holy book, ‘ Deals With The Unholy ‘ it was called. All around Alastor was holy books similar to that.
Finally, Lucifer calmed down slightly and flew back to where Alastor was, he was panting heavily.
“ finally calmed down? “ the Sinner rejoiced, his smiled sickened Lucifer, “ I see you don’t got this handled, “ the King rolled his eyes,
“ looks like apparently once a deal is made it can never be broken until it ends, but we never put a deadline, so it’s not possible… but I swear I had saw something about breaking a deal somewhere! “ he said with a pout, Alastor laughed slightly.
“ well I suggest we go ahead and tell our daughter that becuase she is currently worried about you. “ Alastor said smoothly,
“ she worried about me ? “ Lucifer said excitedly, then clearing his throat embarrassed when he saw Alastors face.
“ what do you mean, ‘ our duaghter ‘ she’s my duaghter not yours “ he growled. Alastor laughed,
“ Well this ring says otherwise, so until we find out a way to break this frivolous deal, we are officially married so she is indeed my duaghter. “ Lucifer narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, “ go along now darling, please tend to OUR daughter “ The short king muttered angerly as he left, not waiting for him.
Alastor waited for him to close the door. The sound of a Wendigo could be heard from him.
he held his hand with his wedding band out, from it, sparks came from it and suddenly a book appeared in his hand. He reading for a brief moment before shutting and burning it.
“ A slight mishap that I could use, maybe being married isn’t such a bad thing “ Alastor started laughing, he continued on as he went through the shadows…
TBC [ ? ]
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blueskittlesart · 9 months
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TOTK: Failure
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starrystevie · 3 months
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"what are you doing," eddie mumbles in confusion, hair fanned out on steve's pillow, the moonlight streaming in giving him a hazy halo.
there's a hand on the side of his face and it's cupping his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin. it's soft, so soft, too soft. another hand is trapping his against the mattress, fingers trailing over his forearm before tangling into his own and squeezing tight. it's gentle, so gentle, too gentle.
eddie isn't soft, eddie isn't gentle. eddie isn't making love in a full size bed with wallpaper that matches the drapes. he isn't fluttering kisses in time with fluttering heartbeats and the fluttering wings of butterflies trapped in his stomach like the most lovely cage.
eddie is fucking at 2am when there's enough intoxication to make him look like he's worth it. he's rough and wild, quick and easy. a means to a barely wanted end because he's there and willing and with long enough hair to let people imagine he's someone else.
he should be caged instead of the damn butterflies. he bares his teeth and thrashes his limbs just to fight and see what he can get away with. he laughs loud and brash in the face of sweetness just to see anger, just to see hurt.
he has half a mind to think he's a feral animal that's hardly been trained, performing in some fucked up circus that charges two bucks to see him snarl and hurl insults at anyone who passes by. he bites at the hands that try to touch, try to feed, proving to the onlookers that he's only worth the pocket change they pay to see him.
but steve. he's holding his face like he wants to, holding his hand like it's the most important thing in the world. he's pressing kisses along eddie's jaw without any hurry, without any rush, kissing just to kiss. feeling just to feel. he's like a ray of goddamn sunshine even in the darkness that midnight provides, warming eddie from the inside out.
eddie wants to run. he wants to scream. he wants to feel like he's allowed steve's soft and gentle but he's-
"is this not okay?" and now steve's looking at him with all of whatever he's trying to give him lacing into his face, his eyes and spit slick lips sparkling in the moonlight like a shiny new toy. "do you not like it?"
concern and care are different sides of the same steve shaped coin and if eddie looks hard enough, he can see them blurring together in his frustratingly beautiful sparkling eyes and those damn butterflies start to come back.
"no, it's-" he let's out a sigh, relaxing his tight muscles and sinking into the bed, sinking into whatever steve is willing to give him. "just different, is all. good different, i think."
steve smiles and eddie shakily mirrors it back, before he's ducking his head again and slotting their lips together, fingers still holding tight to eddie's, still cupping his face like it's something precious.
eddie's come to terms with the taste of the metal bars of his cage, teeth wearing down as he tries to bite his way to freedom. maybe this time he'll let himself get used to the taste of soft and gentle smiles if it means loving steve.
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