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#wants and wishes
microwaveexplosion · 9 months
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ladiemars · 1 year
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𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⟡ 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟
the wayhaven chronicles | adam du mortain x female detective (frankie fairbanks) | 5961 words | rated e
synopsis: after accidentally triggering a latent spell during one of their investigations, adam and frankie find themselves dealing with the unfortunate side effects.
When she was younger, Frankie liked to imagine what it would be like to live through something extraordinary. It had seemed like an exciting prospect at the time, all the potential challenges she might face.
But she hadn’t ever imagined it would be something like this. Having a big red target painted on her back in her own mutated blood.
Now, extraordinary didn’t seem so great.
In fact, it kind of fucking blew.
Frankie avoided her splotchy reflection in the mirror as she stepped out of Adam’s shower, wet hair plastered to the sides of her face. She didn’t want to know what she looked like. The answer was bruised, probably. Her muscles ached and her throat was tender and her skin was bruised.
Her head, though, was surprisingly fine.
And quiet.
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morganpdf · 10 months
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i saw a man at work the other day wearing a shirt that said "i was normal 2 pomeranians ago" with pictures of his pomeranians on it. important to note he had his pomeranians in his cart
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oars · 6 months
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crashstanding · 10 months
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Reblog to give the person you reblogged from the ability to finish their WIPs
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pokimoko · 9 months
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I can't keep being fundamentally changed as a person by animated movies, it's just not sustainable.
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whumpshaped · 4 months
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on the topic of villains redeemed or whatever... i also dislike that whenever a villain joins the good side they suddenly become weak as fuck. KEEP THEM VICIOUS. KEEP THEM SCARY. ALLOW THEM TO BE TERRIFYING AT TIMES SO THE HEROES CAN JUST EXCHANGE LOOKS OF "holy fucking shit i am so glad theyre on our side now"
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diabolicjoy · 1 year
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you can start learning anything you always wanted at any point in your life. & how nice it is to remember that
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elainiisms · 7 months
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it's almost like... if you play a movie in 10 cinemas worldwide, it doesn't do as well as it could 🤯🤯
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lotus-pear · 1 month
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soukoku as one of my dearest renaissance paintings
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microwaveexplosion · 10 months
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ladiemars · 2 years
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𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⟡ 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖
the wayhaven chronicles | adam du mortain x female detective (frankie fairbanks) | 5118 words | rated e
synopsis: after accidentally triggering a latent spell during one of their investigations, adam and frankie find themselves dealing with the unfortunate side effects.
Frankie was back at work on Monday morning.
Of course she was.
“Captain Sung,” she greeted tonelessly as she entered his office, closing the door behind her. The bottle of ibuprofen she had tucked squarely inside of her tote bag rattled with the movement.
The Captain fixed her with a level stare, clasping his hands on the polished surface of his desk. “Detective. How was your weekend?”
“Uneventful.” Frankie thumbed the white bandage wrapped around her still-injured hand. She’d need to change it soon. “Am I fired?”
“No.”
She nodded. That was all she needed to hear. But just as she turned to leave, Captain Sung held up a hand and said, “Wait. About Friday…”
Frankie resisted the urge to sigh, tucking her hands into the pockets of her brown blazer. After everything that happened that weekend—the kiss, the ritual, the fight—Friday was the last thing on her mind.
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maxgicalgirl · 20 days
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Being a “Fun Fact !” kind of autistic is all fun and games until you get halfway through sharing an interesting tidbit and realize that it probably wasn’t appropriate to share in polite company and now you have to deal with the consequences :(
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soyochii · 7 months
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Quick doodles before I evaporate.
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inkskinned · 6 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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skeletonbrioche · 1 month
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just a man who loves his cat
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