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.
[After they talk about Pac's debt to the Pancake Mafia, and Pac warns her about Sir Reaper]
Bagi: I think you're the one that needs to be careful, because soon you might lose your other leg.
Pac: N-no! NO! Please don't! Stop- stop! STOP TALKING LIKE YOUR BROTHER!
Bagi: [Laughs]
Pac: I'll pay you– I'm going to pay you!
I want to give a MASSIVE thank you to @wasabi-ribs, who was kind enough to check my translations and help me with the parts I missed (and also reviewed the final subtitled video)!
[ Transcript continued ↓ ]
-
Bagi: Pac, pay the rent!
Pac: I'm going to pay! Hey- I'm going to pay right this second, the money that I owe you, and... and I'm- I'm serious! And look, if you want- if you have more money... If I pay your 4,500, will you lend me 4,500? No, then I'll actually drown in fees. [Laughs]
Bagi: [Laughs] I'll lend you, I'll lend you
Pac: No, not really Bagi. You've got those red eyes– I'm scared, Bagi. I don't know– I don't know what happened, actually it's an eye infection, I know– But something tells me it's not just an eye infection, that it's also some other things, you know? Like, um... y'know, right? [He fumbles again] Oh God wait, your brother– when he had those red eyes he would also turn evil. Nonononono– I'll pay you, ok? Where's the waystone? It's here, it's here, it's here– I'll pay you, ok? I'll pay the 4,500- we're gonna–
Bagi: I'll be waiting.
Pac: No no, oh- just– Just let me walk, my God, I love walking– OH, WALKING IS SO GOOD – [Pac teleports] I'll pay her.
[Bagi follows him moments after]
Pac: [Pac mumbles to himself as he begins transferring money to Bagi] 4,500... I need to pay her 4,500...
and dean winchester thought he was unlovable and didnt deserve happiness he hated himself and thought eveyone would eventually leave him and then a literal fucking angel fell in love with him. like loved him more than anything else in the world.
how about that uhhhhh Fantasy Julie. she gets her sword <3 no one can take it from her <3
rambles:
SIKE you get an extra, lower quality doodle
SIKE AGAIN here's the rambles
yeah... i caved and gave her a tail... I'm Not Sorry! it's cute! i wanted to stick with her sorta flower motif - it's stronger in her princess look, since I imagine that when she was part of the royals she was very blatantly flower power based. it was her Thing!
but a Julie free of her noble shackles... she deserves her big sword. like yeah, she has flower magic, but who needs it when she has a Giant Blade??? on the royalty vein, and if we're classifying "rainbow monster" as a species, i feel like horn size/curve would be a status symbol of some kind. maybe Julie would have kept her horns filed short. but if she ran away from that life... longer horns! i like to imagine that they'll keep growing until she has a pair of Extra Weapons attached to her head! curved forward like mammoth tusks maybe!
i imagine that like Frank, she goes with minimal armor - range of movement over protection, yk? some scale mail over her front, a thick leather flower over her chest w/ scalloped leather pauldrons, wrist armor and metal knuckles! i'd think that the faux-suspenders include a back sheath for her sword... i wish i'd thought of that Before i finished the little ref! i don't feel like going back and editing!
i imagine that she was forced to cut her hair when it got caught in something (a gelatinous cube, mayhaps). it didn't look good! don't let anime and Mulan fool you! cutting your own hair with a blade will not look nice! but someone - Eddie, probably, he's good with scissors i'd assume - cleaned it up for her. and hey, it didn't look bad! plus, Julie probably liked being able to just tuck up her long strands into her hat when she's feeling a bit more like a Julius than a Julie!
it's been a fun challenge transforming their canon outfits into a similar variation with fantasy flavoring and twists! i want them to suit the setting but still maintain Themselves! Julie's was tough i gotta admit. i was messing around with the princess look and the fighter look side-by-side. it worked better when i sat back and thought "fighter Julie is Julie unrestrained. that version would be more aligned with her canon look"
i wanted her princess form to look Restrained! she has to be a ~delicate flower~, a noble woman, pristine and poised and very much a princess. soft colors, poofy clothing, bright white gloves that are not to be sullied. carefully bundled up hair! jewelry! that dress must be Heavy and hard to move in! her tail must be so cramped under there!
but Julie Unleashed? violent pinks! rose gold accents! short skirt so that she can sprint and Kick! fun boots that she can be active in and delight in watching them get dirty! her hair is free to whip in the wind and get caught in things! fun straps and Deadly Accessories! a sword that she stole from the royal armory on her way out the window! she has forearm wraps both to match Frank and to support her wrists!
okay be honest. if someone as hot as sokka (is constantly established to be by other characters within the text) said these exact words to you, you would also fall in love with them on the spot and/or be overwhelmed with uncontrollable horniness. yue is valid
Daroach: *slaps roof of DMK* This bad boy can fit so much salt in- *is soundly punted into the sun by DMK*
(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of Daroach and Dark Meta Knight having a snack break and being silly, based off of this incorrect quote. Transcript below the cut. END ID.)
I told myself this would just be a quick sketch. Y'know. Like a liar. Anyway, thank you for the inspo, @incorrect-star-allies! (I hope you don't mind that I took some liberties with the quote. ^^' I can never resist adding some extra characterization, haha.)
Started 03/14/24, finished 03/15/24.
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Transcript:
Panel 1
*DMK sits on the ground in his cape and armor, his mask tilted up to the top of his head as he prepares to take a bite out of a foil-wrapped burrito, one eye opened to glance towards our left. Daroach - holding up a container of strawberries in his paws - enters from our left and plops down beside the knight (SFX: POF).*
*DMK tilts his mask down as he chews, the burrito now turned to show a single bite taken out of it. Daroach turns his head to look slightly over the knight's shoulder, leaning heavily on one paw and idly digging into the container of strawberries set between his feet with the other.*
DMK: Eh, you wouldn't like it. It's really salty.
Panel 3
*Daroach turns back to lift a strawberry towards his open mouth, smiling smugly with his eyes shut and brows high.*
Daroach: Heh, y'sure about that? After all, I like you, don't I?
*DMK turns to squint at the thief through the visor of his mask, red lines of irritation shooting off from him in little zigzags.*
Samurai and Ninja in crappy pics because December here is under a constant cloud and I just want y'all to see them all golden and cute without learning how to take aesthetic pictures 🥴 💙❤️😆🥰
anyone else thinking about how us crows canonically reacted to that diorama in the aquarium? like. imagine being q!phil, desparately trying to convince himself that none of this is happening and his dreams are just dreams... while all of the crows surrounding you are going NUTS
vocalising, ruffling their feathers, flapping their wings - immediately and viscerally reacting to all of the trappings of endlantis and the king.
im just. can you even imagine trying to process that. imagine ur kid wakes up and can't see any of the shit that's driving you + ur entire murder to hysterics, even when they're all Clearly reacting to... something in the aquarium. imagine phil trying to say he's fine and that he just needs air while the crows are fucking RIOTING.
we knew + were shouting abt the king and endlantis LONG before q!phil was able to acknowledge it. and the dissonance of that is just,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, OGH!
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saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.