art blog(derogatory)
Misplaced Lens Cap
No title available
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
pixel skylines
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
No title available
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Cosmic Funnies
official daine visual archive
No title available
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
One Nice Bug Per Day
noise dept.
Product Placement
h
Xuebing Du
Noah Kahan
@theartofmadeline
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Vietnam
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Mali
seen from United States
seen from Thailand
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ecuador
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@whatwereallyarematters
Today at my individual therapy that I do after my group therapy because all I’m doing these days evidently is therapy, my new therapist with this program asked if any of my previous therapists had raised the possibility of an autism diagnosis, and I said no they hadn’t, and she goes HUH. Text alone can’t capture how surprised that “huh” was.
“Write novels.”
I have a friend who’s a journalist. She’s ridiculously awesome and I really want to name her because everyone should know just how awesome she is, but this isn’t a time where it feels wise to reveal the political thoughts expressed by a journalist in private, at least not without her permission. The day before I saw her last week, I’d locked myself out of Facebook and Twitter. I’d been forced to realise the psychological harm they were doing me outweighed any political good my frantic clicktivism could possibly be accomplishing. My brother had called, on my sister-in-law’s instructions. “R. says you’re tweeting and facebooking constantly about politics,” he said. “She said ‘call your sister, I don’t think she’s doing well.’” “I’m okay, probably,” I’d told him. “I don’t think you are,” he said. I felt a little better, though not by much, by the time I met my friend for lunch. She was shaken, she said. Democracy was falling apart. I muttered weakly that perhaps it wasn’t quite that bad. She said she’d rather act now than hope for the best. I agreed. But act how? She said she was getting onto the board of various charities. She was writing about the best way to report on extremism, avoiding the terrible false equivalencies of the “he said/she said” approach which has blighted our discourse with such ghastly effect. I said I was supporting the Stop Funding Hate campaign. Giving to Planned Parenthood and ACLU over there, refugee charities over here. Writing letters. Trying to think of useful ways to get involved in local politics. “You know what you should do,” she said. No, I really didn’t. “Write novels,” she said. I told her that in the days after the election I felt as if art had been revealed as an empty joke. An indulgence we could no longer afford. As if I would never be able to justify doing it again. What we were even going to write now? Flimsy, tinselly distractions from ghastly reality? Or sharp-eyed, unflinching commentary that no one except the already-convinced would ever read? What was the point of art? “No, no!” she said. “Art is what will save us.” “But it hasn’t,” I wanted to scream. We tried and tried. We’ve filled the world with our stories, our songs – we’ve tried so hard to make our stories better - with diverse casts and empathy and hope – and it’s not enough; no one’s saying it was perfect, or that the attempt was anywhere close to finished. But we were trying. And now look. It is so important, she told me, that there is art already made and due to come out in the coming year that embodies the opposite of this. Diverse, progressive stories, that are not going to go untold whatever happens. I’d had in my mind two quotes. Peter Cook, on Germany’s satirical clubs of the thirties “that did so much to prevent the rise of Hitler.” And Kurt Vonnegut: “During the Vietnam War, which lasted longer than any war we’ve ever been in - and which we lost - every respectable artist in this country was against the war. It was like a laser beam. We were all aimed in the same direction. The power of this weapon turns out to be that of a custard pie dropped from a stepladder six feet high.“ But if they hadn’t been there? I thought, looking at my friend. Who was fierce and bright-eyed and smiling. Those useless satirists and artists and musicians pouring their spirits into their art and watching it land on the floor of history like that dropped custard pie? What if there was nothing to look back on in those times but a culture in militaristic lockstep, or perhaps worse, slumped in dead-eyed indifference? After those years-long nightmares, what would there have been to wake up to? Maybe it was absurd to find the thought more chilling than the reality of what had happened, to feel that it would have been an international death of the soul, but .. still … If artists couldn’t prevent disaster, could they at least preserve something precious from being lost while it endured? If they hadn’t stopped a single war, had they at least kept the rot from penetrating the human culture unchallenged? It’s not enough. It’s not enough. “Write novels,” said my friend stubbornly. “Write novels.”
And for those of us who’re doing it anyway: there is no more important time to be found at our posts, doing our jobs: spitting in Entropy’s eye and making more goddamn art.
Who we really are, it matters.
Can't wait to write shows so gay that Oscar Wilde personally sends me a birthday card
Bringing this back from January 15th 2017, as we face with trepidation the introduction of Moffat’s newest gay
Who you are, does matter!
acd holmes: you’ll come with me right? I’m lost without you, I need you. acd holmes : for The Case, i mean
acd watson: I can think of nothing better than to be with you. acd watson: for The Case, i mean
They are too cute ugh I can’t
tiny small husbands
In Sherlock Irene Adler is just as obsessed with outwitting Holmes as he is with outwitting her, and I feel like that’s a fundamental misreading of the source material, because in Doyle’s version Holmes happens to get in Irene’s way, so she does the functional equivalent of trapping him under a cup, sliding a newspaper under him and dumping him out in the backyard.
There were only four people who ever bested Holmes, and she was the one who frustrated him the most, because she didn’t give a flying fuck about him. Not only was she a woman (orignal Holmes was pretty sexist), but he was considered irrelevant. That Infuriated him. Sure, Moriarty was a match for Holmes, but Moriarty devoted his life to outwitting him. Irene Adler just did it offhandedly, and that’s what makes her so amazing
#i have feelings about this#Holmes#literally no interpretation has ever made Adler into the badass she is#she never was in love with him#not even a little#she just#didn’t care#it was beautiful#he thinks he’s hot shit and she outwits him without breaking a sweat#and then just leaves#as if she hadn’t just destroyed him#irene adler#the real hero
I will reblog this post everytime I see it and I wanna send a framed copy of this to moffat.
The summary of A Scandal in Bohemia
Sherlock Holmes : Gotcha.
Irene Adler : lol.
Sherlock Holmes : Welp. That was unexpected. Thanks for the autograph. My boyfriend thinks you are cool. And I think you rock. Take care sister. Peace out.
every time watson says he can’t tell us about a particular case, i’m pretty sure it’s just code for holmes and i went on holiday and had a ridiculous amount of very loud sex
Reblogging with your tags:
#HE JUST MAKES UP NAMES AS A COVER #UH YEAH SURE HOLMES IS TOTALLY EXHAUSTED FROM THE BARON MAUPERTUIS CASE #AND NOT BECAUSE WE SPENT THE LAST THREE WEEKS BANGING IT OUT IN A CHATEAU IN THE ALPS #I SWEAR
And this is not us… this is canon
I MEAN
nothing is gayer than Johnlock in every adaptation ever
Johnlock is endgame. fight me.
This is one of my fav things
holmes: this is my intimate friend dr watson before whom you can speak as freely as before me
client: my information really is most sensitive
holmes: it's both or none! he is my trusted friend! don't let the door hit you on the way out!
client: okay okay
holmes: ...of course, in a year or two he'll publish all your embarrassing secrets in the strand
Not only does Sherlock Holmes not care about a person’s class and social standing, he is so opposed to classism that if you try to flaunt your high class in front of him, he will actively put you in your place.
Examples: St Simon: I’m sure you’ve never dealt with anyone of my class Holmes, looking him up and down: True, you’re certainly a step down
King of Bohemia: Ah, what a woman! What a pity she wasn’t on my level Holmes: Yeah, she was way out of your league, my dude
Power Rangers has gotten attention for featuring the "first queer superhero," and Beauty and the Beast was heralded for its "exclusively gay moment." But these scenes feel so sl...
Commission for hungryanthropologist! I’ve been working on some more commissions lately but I always end up barely posting any, feel free to show them on your blog if I haven’t though.
