art blog(derogatory)
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blake kathryn
Sade Olutola
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
we're not kids anymore.
izzy's playlists!
Janaina Medeiros
DEAR READER
Origami Around
taylor price
tannertan36
Acquired Stardust
Misplaced Lens Cap
AnasAbdin
@theartofmadeline
Stranger Things
Sweet Seals For You, Always
NASA
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Argentina
seen from Malaysia
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from Denmark
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Germany
@avatarofthetired
basically the best thing any character can do is decide they don't want to be afraid anymore - in fact they never want to be afraid of anything ever again - and take action so drastic they fail to realise that this too is a decision motivated by fear. or to account for the Consequences of that.
[with obvious perverted intent] hey. don't you want to release the safety catches on that character. don't you want to flip off all the switches holding them back and let the control rods go.
KICK THE CAN!
Let’s play the biggest game of kick the can on the internet.
To kick the can, reblog it. I wanna see how long this can go on for.
the oldest reblogs for this post that i can find are from january 2nd of 2013. this can has been getting kicked around tumblr for almost 13½ years now
Day 208 Frin: The only hope they have left
curious to hear y'all's suggestions for the worst possible pasta shape
(Assume that "pasta" needs to be made of sheets or strands of dough with enough surface area relative to thickness so that they can be cooked.)
I was going to suggest fettuccini but twisted with the ends connected to form a Möbius strip, but then I realized that would fuck like hell.
@fishofthewoods I did NOT expect to get such a strong contender so early.
@alilcajun @aralioideae
a couple of challengers emerge
You are all fucking madmen
things in fic I'm used to people kind of faking their way through writing about:
the city of los angeles
the city of new york
sex
how drinking alcohol works
how getting high works
how a child of any age speaks
how nuclear physics work
how [my job] works
how debilitating being shot in the shoulder is
how hypothermia works
things I have never before seen someone fake their way through writing about, until today:
what french toast is
read through the notes on this one trust me
Here's some of the notes, starting with the things multiple people brought up:
SHRIMP COCKTAIL:
banahbanah: #flashback to that one fic where Peter Parker frets about drinking shrimp cocktail because of the alcohol
generaldeliciousness: adding: what a prawn/shrimp cocktail is
#why is your character turning it down because they're under 21 #do you think prawn cocktail is a cocktail #this lives in my brain rent-free constantly #the rest of the fic was so normal #and good enough that i'll still re-read it #but bro
And then many, MANY, people wondering if this was actually authour mistake, since Peter really would do this!
POMEGRANATES:
zhajhassa: #haha where's that post that was like someone describing someone eating a pomegranate but they ate it like an apple
thornhands: #once someone wrote persephone biting into a whole Pomegranate #had to stop and stare at a wall for a minute
sungsingsanguine: I once saw someone very confidently write about a character eating slices of pomegranate.
FRUIT TREES:
zagreuses-toast: #given a very endearing glimpse into a writers blindspots by seeing them describe someone sitting under a ''pineapple tree''
salatrash: I remember something about picking watermelons... OF A FUCKING TREE
baander: #cranberry trees
DOUGH/BATTER:
maycelium: #I'm a chef so I'm really used to people not accurately describing how to cook food #But I was surprisingly flabbergasted when someone was writing making a cake and was kneading it. Which uh #Not necessary for cake. It was interesting for sure but just bizarre
livebloggingmydescentintomadness: #the one that drove me nuts was when a character set aside a batch of PASTA DOUGH 'to rise' #pasta doesn't have yeast!! #it does need to REST but it will never RISE #you do not want an airy crumb on your noodles
lovesodeepandwideandwell: #THE ONE WHERE THEY MADE COOKIES BY LADLING BATTER INTO A TRAY
Some other topics:
hey you. teenage girl writing in her diary. quit talking about the boy you have a crush on and start writing about the current political situation, the valuation of currencies, and the level of technology your people hold. your diary might be the only piece of evidence our society existed after nuclear war fries all of our data backups. future historians don't need to know about damian, they need at least a secondhand accounts of the great water wars and whether or not your leaders truly did worship a deity called "the free hand of the market"
Keep writing about your crush Teenaged Girl. About your clothes, and how that other girl wore the same dress as you. Paint me a picture of what you were like.
Historians are going to hear about Damian and they're gonna LIKE IT
Make those future Historians reverse engineer the socioeconomic hierarchies of the 21st century from dreamy descriptions of Damian's current fashions. It's giving them enrichment.
Talk about the things you want to talk about. You never know what mysteries your diary might solve in future generations bc you are the only person who talks about something that other people thought was too obvious to talk about, like whatever that third condiment dish that used to be on the table with salt and pepper was for.
Olruggio's on the verge of passing out from exhaustion but when Agott shyly ask him if he can review her spell he's like "Yes Gimme!". He may be dying from overwork but there's always time to help the daughter™
Asexuals were always part of pride and it really fucking shows when people think it's a recent term.
Although not going by the term "asexual" yet, asexuality was spoken about alongside homosexuality as far back as the 1890s. Asexual history is just as vital to queer history as any other term and I'm so tired of watching us being treated like a new thing
This image is so so fucking important to me
Reblog this, cowards
Stayed home from school so I can catch up on school. Utter buffoonery
Love that Ume helped keep the boys focused by centering Sakura over Suo. That's a leader right there. They can't do anything with Suo atm but they can control the situation with Sakura. They know Suo went back to his real home, but they don't know exactly where he'd be located. At least with Sakura they know Nirei and gang can find him and try to comfort. If they want to move forward they need to make sure Sakura is of sound mind as they know Sakura has insecurities on another level than them due to the childhood neglect. Suo is with his brothers but Sakura has only them, Furin, to support him and they know Sakura rarely reaches out for help. It was a milestone that Sakura asked Endo for help cuz he saw Nirei's determined face. He went out his comfort zone and got burned with the truth (Endo version) of Suo. That's gonna be a hard recovery.
kevin day should’ve been an ancient greek tragic heroine and instead he got stuck in a self published 2010s contemporary sports/crime thriller… and he didn’t even get put on the woke team so he doesn’t know about estrogen or bisexuality
The reason Qifrey is so awesome and relatable is because he wants to live. Man in his twenties being ominous as hell and breaking laws left and right and messing with forces beyond comprehension and lying to the cops and doing horrible things to the people who love him most and constantly destroying his own mental health and you peel back the layers and the motivation is "God I want to grow old someday."
Manga Spoilers
God and the way in which he transforms from ‘I have to live because Olly wants me to live’ to ‘I want to live’ is so incredibly important to me. He was ready to give up, to let the Silverwood take him but Olly stops him. Olruggio traps him in a hellish pact because he wants his friend to live and he knows his friend wants to as well, Qifrey just has to come to that realisation.
i know we’re both just messing around pretending to be whole but look at me. if the train was coming would you move. if the ground was falling from under your feet would you even notice or would it just be another tuesday for you. if somebody stabbed you could it hurt worse than you already do. what i’m saying is that i love you but i think we both drive over the speed limit when it’s raining. what i’m saying is that i want to hold your hand and i understand about how you sometimes have to sit down in the shower. what i’m saying is that i’m here for you and if the train comes please move.
i wrote this 7 years ago, somehow. every day someone else finds it and whispers to me - oh, i understand this. something always turns in the wash of my stomach: i am so, so glad you feel seen. i wish you had no idea what this post was about.
i wrote this while working in a program for new writers. on wednesdays, two of the teachers would be contractually obligated to read our writing aloud to the group of 300+ teens. i had never read my work in public before. i had something like 6k poems and was panicking about it. none of them are good enough. sometimes the train is howling. it is hard, actually, sometimes, even as an adult.
and then i thought - what is one thing i wish i could tell all of them. each of these 300 kids. what did i need to hear, at 16?
i wanted to tell them about the day you wake up, and the sun feels warm finally. i wanted to tell them about carving a life out of soapstone, your hands turning bloody. i wanted to tell them that sometimes yes - it actually does feel easy. i wanted to tell them about weddings and cookie dough and long road trips. about albums of new music and old friends laughing and the sound of snow falling.
you will learn the pattern of the train. you will learn to close your eyes when you hear the engine rumbling. you will learn to let yourself have the grey days in their lily-soft numbness. sometimes it will feel like life is wet paint, and god has smeared your canvas across a sewer grate. sometimes it will be so boring it isn’t even pronounceable - the tenacious, soundless blankness. survival isn’t just ugly nights and wild mornings. it is also the steady, unimportant moments. it is just driving with your seatbelt on. it is calling a friend on the way home. it is burying your face into the fur of your dog.
when i had finished reading this poem aloud, the auditorium was silent for a solid minute. someone stood up to take a picture of where it had been projected onto a screen, and then three more people followed the action, and then - like a bad internet story, people remembered they were supposed to be clapping. kids came up to me after it - thank you for writing that. i think i hear a train coming.
i would write this differently now, i think, but it has been 7 years. i still live by the tracks. i also haven’t picked up a blade in over 10 years. the scars are still there, but these days i only pick up scissors to cut my hair. i know why you can’t tell your mom about it. i know how the numbness slips over everything, a restless horrible cotton. i know how when you dropped the dish, you weren’t crying about the broken glass. i know about feeling like all the roads have closed their exits, that you aren’t supposed to still-be-here - and yet.
i am still here, and still yours, and i haven’t forgotten. what i’m saying is if any hope is calling to you - i know it’s hard, but you have to listen. i’m saying keep driving, but slow down the car. sit down in the shower, i’m not judging you. we can stay in the dark with the good hot water and do nothing but stare. notice the stab wound. make it through another tuesday.
i know what it is like to miss yourself. do what you need to. come home to me. i am writing to you, my past self, from the future. i’ll be waiting for you.
and when the train is coming - please move.
talking like point-and-click game narration to the bugs in my room
you can't get out that way!
that's not very helpful.
maybe the open window will help.
try the open window instead.
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
