The princess and the witch

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Alt. ver., transparent and closeup:

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.

So ummm vashwood spiderman kiss,,,,,,,

the cat’s cradle

I need more dpxdc crossovers making use of the way technically, Valerie is Amity Park’s hero. Phantom is the menace running around destroying shit with other ghosts, and Valerie is the vigilante who’s dedicated herself to stopping them.

It can go a few ways- a post-reconciliation fic where Danny and Valerie have moved past their rivalry and now they’re buds. bros. besties. running around and corralling ghosts together. the Justice League is working off of way outdated info and they think Valerie is still the sole hero of Amity, fighting off Phantom and other ghosts as they try to take over the Living Realms. They try to interfere with a fight to help Valerie against Danny until they both stop like "dude why are you interfering in our spar, we're busy here, go away" and continue trying to knock each other into the ground.

Or they approach Phantom, thinking he’s the hero and not knowing anything about Valerie, until she shows up and attacks Danny, yelling about how he ruined her life. and now the JL think Phantom lied to them about being a hero and they’re on Valerie’s side helping her hunt down Danny, who is 10x more stressed than he was that morning before the Fucking Justice League started hunting him down trying to capture him while Valerie tells them all about how evil ghosts and Danny are, with help from the Fentons

Or Danny is an established JL member, and the JL doesn’t really know much about Amity or that Valerie exists at all, until they’re facing a relatively big ghost problem and Danny's like “alright we’re calling in the calvary”. The JL expects another ghost, like the clone Phantom apparently has that he brought to work one day, and then some woman shows up, punches Phantom in the arm for never calling her, and then the pair wreck ghostly shit together while everyone watches in awe

Or the reverse, where Valerie is an established JL member or at least auxiliary member, and she’s their on-call ghost expert. Until one day there’s a question she doesn’t have the answer to and she’s like “alright one sec let me call my friend Danny”, and an hour later a ghost flies through the wall, hugs her, yells something excited about SPACE!!! and helps them with whatever problem the JL is having. Everyone is like “hey i thought you hated ghosts?” and Valerie just goes “yeah, but this guy is cool.”

Or the JL approaches Valerie in Amity Park and she introduces herself as Amity Park’s sole ghost-fighting hero, don’t ask what happened to the last guy. Everybody fully assumes she was dating “the last guy” and he was killed by the ghosts, and she took his mantle to get justice. Turns out, no, “the last guy” is Danny and he’s no longer the Amity Park hero because now he’s the ghost king, and he’s in charge of the fuckers now. Nobody ever clarifies that no, Danny and Valerie were not a couple who fought ghosts together until Danny was killed by a ghost, forever warping his personality and forcing him into the position of Ghost King. Because you’re not supposed to ask about it.

There's so much you can do with it, I have so many thoughts

the winner is time btw

How i feel stopping by the turkish bakery, polish supermarket, and indian minimarket in one journey through the neighbourhood

merthur shippers I understand your arguments but I also think merlin deserves to have some fun. just some pure, unadulterated fun, do you get me? he shouldn't be thinking about destiny and doom while getting laid, is all I mean

if i thought last comic's 60 hours was absurd. well.

having a job is great lol i get to upgrade my look every salary

I think this was like. The first time I rendered anything in MONTHs because for weeks Tech was all I drew (he still sort of is LOL)

He’s actually alive and well this time that’s wild (it doesn’t last)

me and who 𝜗𝜚

it's honestly amazing how love never dies, in its most recent iteration with the US tour, did so much to improve upon the original london production

the sets look beautiful, the music still goes hard, the lyrics were reworked, and they had an extremely talented cast with great chemistry

and despite it all, it still managed to be one of the worst things i've ever seen. absolutely nothing can save that dumpster fire, and i think that's beautiful

im only 3 episodes into (live action) one piece but binks no sake will not leave my head. lmao