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.
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OKAY SO-
Alastor lost his cool and flipped his shit immensely when Lucifer showed up - why would that be? and why wedge himself between Lucifer and Charlie? Why would he react so viscerally when his literal main-competitor for retaining his rank and respect is Vox, and Vox openly antagonises him first, trying to drag Alastor's reputation through the mud in his broadcasts
Alastor remains cool, calm, collected, and in doing so completely surpasses Vox's attempts
in many ways, Alastor is unflappable. Always smiling, always a step ahead, always the most powerful and domineering in a room
and then- Lucifer shows up. This short statured, rosy-cheeked, rather pathetic excuse of a man
he waltzes in to the hotel, a fumbling over-excited mess, the least threatening a person could possibly look in hell, barely reaching Alastor's waist
and yet, he outranks Alastor, he could over-power him easily, he is the predator
and Alastor simply cannot handle that
Alastor may be furious that such a week-minded, emotionally unguarded man ranks so far above him with no way for Alastor to even attempt to gain the same status
so what does Lucifer lack? what is the one thing Alastor can have that he can't?
a relationship with Charlie
his anger is calculated, he finds what hurts Lucifer, he finds his weakness, he grips onto it with both claws, and he drags it in front of him, mocking the fact that, yeah, sure Lucifer may outrank him, but in his daughters mind? one of the few things Lucifer can't control? Alastor has the power, has the lead - in all manners of 'power' and 'influence' that Lucifer cannot control, Alastor makes sure he knows he is on top - he is Charlie's favourite, he succeeds where Lucifer has failed her
regardless of his motives, he has been there for Charlie, and Lucifer hasn't, and that's all that matters
but why does he have this deep-rooted need to prove himself? why can he not accept that he is still the second most powerful in that hotel?
his need for power, for dominance, for control is shown again when Husk confronts him in the hallway
'big talk for someone who's also on a leash'
this time, Alastor doesn't even bother targeting Husker's, insecurities, his weaknesses
he drags him down the hallway chained at his neck, teeth gnashing and positively enraged
there's no typical Alastor intelligence or cunning behind this action - it is pure unadulterated rage, it's a: I can kill you, and I will
killing husk would be useless - Alastor obviously has a purpose for him, that's why he's been kept alive and the other overlords haven't, killing him would get rid of any leverage Alastor had, it would get rid of Husk full stop
Alastor has been gone for 7 years, and now he's back, supporting a cause he doesn't believe, forced to wander around the hotel halls and haunting its residents instead of freely roaming Hell
Lilith has also been gone 7 years - and she isn't yet back
Alastor just so happens to appear at the hotel mere moments after Charlie tries to talk to Lilith, marching into the foyer and wedging himself into the project with a showman's flair
he is chained, he is chained to that infernal hotel where he doesn't belong - he cannot be redeemed, he doesn't want to be redeemed
he is chained to Lilith, and by extension he is chained to Charlie
and in his eyes, he is powerless, so utterly and infuriatingly at the mercy of those above him, and that simply won't do
so what can he do? what can a man, whose greatest desire is power, who's biggest insecurity is the power and status he wields over others, do to reclaim some semblance of that power? how can he usurp Lilith? how can be make this soul-bond beneficial to him?
he can win Charlie over - he can replace her father in the process, he can mould her as he sees fit, he can play on her need to view the best in everyone, in the need to create friendships and her insatiable ability to care for those around her
he cannot get to Lilith, he cannot match Lucifer, but he can have Charlie
and he's nearly got her
and when he does? who's to say her naivety, her trust, the relationship he's intentionally crafted with her, leads her to strike a deal with him in a moment of need? when the angels attack, when the hotel begins to crumble, when heaven commands her to stop her efforts? why wouldn't she strike a deal, in her mind, he's as caring as a father figure, and a man who's been there since day one unlike either of her parents
she shakes his hand
he has her soul
he has Charlie, and he has Lilith, and he has Lucifer
there's nothing they can do, and isn't that really what power is? not raw-strength, not magic, not status, but the ability to control those who others may believe to be above your own station?
he's forced to the hotel, he's chained down and unable to grab for more power - if Lilith is preventing him from earning it himself, well, he can always just force her to give it to him
all it takes is one hand shake.
the cherry on top? he get's to show Lilith it's her own desire for him to be at the hotel that has allowed him to ensnare them all
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