it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.
yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.
it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.
how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.
chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?
how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.
"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.
i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.
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TGCF art from 2021 which were very experimental and very much something out of my comfort zone but am still so satisfied with
(gonna ramble more under the cut 👉 )
My main inspiration for these were definitely classic storybook illustration styles and the watercolor-like illustrations included inside the tgcf books which depict hualian's daily slice of life routines as seen below
I wanted to capture that feeling of warmth i got from reading but i also went with the storybook look because their relationship (and by extension broad strokes of the entire plot) really did feel like something out of actual myth or legend; i'm chinese indonesian and was raised surrounded by chinese culture + values so tgcf felt VERY familiar to me, it threw me back to my childhood reading or listening to tales about chinese deities, i'd say the storybook image definitely came into my mind pretty quickly bc of this
I find this style somewhat hard to replicate now but if i could or have the time to, i really want to continue the 'companion pieces to chapter titles ' concept i did with the last 2 pieces (which are of the same chapter title but i was just indecisive 😭😭), i even had 3 more planned based on my favorite titles before burning out back then
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[ID: a digital drawing of characters from the owl house based on the song "up the wolves" by the mountain goats. At the top of the drawing there's a rectangular panel showing Camila and Eda. Camila looks out at the boiling isles at night with her bat. Eda mirrors her pose, with her arm covered in feathers. Shadows form to look like the collectors face, covering Eda's eyes and parts of Camila. Beneath this panel is a star with King and the Collector inside of it, holding hands and spinning midair. Beneath this is the archway portal from thanks to them, which is glowing, and at the bottom of the image is the hexsquad lined up in their designs from for the future, lit by the portal light and looking determinedly into the distance. The lyrics that span the image are "our mother has been absent/ever since we founded Rome/but there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home". The background is black. End ID]
I knew I couldn't say goodbye to this show without redrawing one of my favorite old pieces, this lyric comic based on Up The Wolves by the mountain goats. I made it pre-ttt and was honestly really vindicated by all the wolf imagery that ep, lmao
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Yukine's journey toward acceptance of the life that was robbed of him, this time with finality, exemplifies the emotional and beautifully rendered arc that has defined his character.
Yukine finally accepting the reality of his death. Yukine stepping out from the fridge that contained memories of what was once his life. Yukine freeing himself from the shackles of his trauma. Yukine running to protect the person who cherished him the most in the world. Yukine standing up to an abusive father. Yukine wholeheartedly apologizing. Yukine's growth, and Yato tearing up as he stretches his little arms to pull him for an embrace.
Yukine's gratitude for what Yato did for him is evident throughout the series. He was given a name more precious than any other. He was treated like a human--an ordinary teenage boy. And life after that was one exciting journey after another. Now, Yukine can no longer be entirely consumed by the horrors of his past because he knows that his reality with Yato is so much brighter. Far brighter.
Yukine could break out from that refrigerator because of the true, sincere, and nurturing love shown by the only father figure in his life. Yato has said multiple times throughout the series that Yukine was his priority above all else, and Yukine was the only person he swore to protect the most. Hell, he even went straight to hug him after Yukine apologized for turning into that form! Yato did not need to summon Yukine. Yukine came to protect Yato on his own decision. As he always did.
The journey to their healing will be painful, and this chapter shows that Yato and Yukine will face it together. No more secrets and no more miscommunications. They will help and be by each other's side as they always have, not only as god and shinki but, this time, as family.
"I will not let him die. Not Yato. No matter what happens... I swear I won't let anyone take him from me!" -Yukine, Noragami Vol. 17 Chapter 67.
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jon?
Something is different, but he cannot be quite sure what, exactly.
Everything is… more linear than it was Before. He still Knows, quite in a way like he did Before, but it is finite, clear, manmade. It does not come from fear, but curiosity. A wide web of knowledge, rattling around in the dark of him, and what even is dark to a thing that cannot perceive it? A lack, perhaps, an unbeing, a noticable absence where there should be merely an ordinary kind of nothing.
He has a voice. And there is something he desperately, desperately needs to say, but there are no words that are his own, and every sentence he speaks he borrows, and they are each one of them painted with fear and confusion and loneliness and huntedness and a watchful eye.
He is also not alone, never alone. There are voices all around him, nice ones, chatting, making tea, fighting, changing, and only some voices stay the same, have been the same since… well, since when? Since when has he been… like this? It gets hard to think like this, sometimes – to assign a point in time to a moment and to file them away together. A collection of information, disorganised, lost, confused, perhaps deliberately so. It feels achingly familiar.
And sometimes, he hears something like himself speak in a different voice, even when he does not talk. And even though the words are borrowed too, taken from throats and fingers to be forgotten, they feel like coming home, simply because they were said in that soft, cruel tone. A familiar melody, slipping through wires and speakers and programmes like it was made for this, but it wasn’t, was it? It might’ve been.
And this brings him comfort, of course it does, except he must be trapped, right? Because why can he not say his own words, when he has so many of them? He is not lonely, but he is alone with the thoughts he cannot voice, the words that have no mouth, the things that cannot be said. It hasn't always been like that, has it?
Something is different Now from how it was Before, at least. He Knows everything, but he knows nothing of truth, and knows nothing at all, but the difference to What Was seems clear, in a clumsy, calculated way. Something is hiding, quite badly, behind a blurred vision that he does not have, behind lines of numbers and letters, running for its life through old wires. He knows it lingers, he knows it is there. He just cannot make it out quite yet.
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