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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"Do you require assistance?" Phantom perked up at the mans voice. Red Robin was the guy multiple ghosts had recommended to him even though he was still alive. Okay, so they kinda did it in a half joking manner, but Phantom was desperate!
The nine year old came out from the shadows and could immediately feel the man in front of him cataloging everything about his appearance. Wierd. But he had dealt with Weirder. Besides, he was glowing, so he guessed the human had a right to be curious. "I heard you were really good with machines."
Red Robin looked somewhat tense, like he was ready to fight if need be. Why does everyone wanna fight him? He's nine!
Phantom quickly brought out a little silver sphere with an OwO face from his bag and quickly began speaking, "This is my friend Livvi, she started acting wierd a while back and I haven't been able to fix her."
To his credit, Red didn't attack him. He just looked gobsmacked. "You came out to Gotham, in the middle of the night and tracked down a vigilante to ask for tech support?"
"Livvi is different!" He fumed, "She's my friend!"
A sigh escaped from the mans lips and Phantom looked up to see him pinching the bridge of his nose, "Okay, you're probably not going to go away until I fix her. Just promise me you'll try to be safer."
Phantom hummed as if contemplating, "I'll try."
With that, the vigilante took Livvi from him and began working on her from the blanket Phantom had laid out. Red Robin began to look more and more curious about Livvi as he worked on her. He even took out one of Livvis ectoplasm powerbanks to examine it more thoroughly. "Can you explain to me what problems she's been having?"
The kid bit his lower lip, clearly worried about the little robot, "Shes having trouble maintaining flight and producing shields. Her speech sometimes comes out glitch or warped despite me not finding anything wrong with her voice box or programming. A few times she's just turned off mid flight and dropped."
The man looked thoughtful for a few seconds before asking, "Have you ever heard of the Lazarus Pit?"
"I've heard of Lazarus, but I don't know what it is. I've only ever heard of it in passing. Why?" The ghost was genuinely confused by the change in topic
"Can I text a friend about this?"
"I don't see why not. The more help Livvi gets the faster she'll get better right?" The bird wasted no time activating his coms and whispering into it telling some unknown people about "an unknown glowing meta child with futuristic tech that runs on Lazarus water"
Within the next ten minutes a guy dressed as a bat landed on the rooftop alongside a boy around his age dressed like a trafic light and scowling as if he had just been told that he was grounded from ever having ice cream again. The big goth dude introduced himself as batman and offered him a lollipop. "I'm not supposed to take candy from strangers." Phantom said seriously, "Unless its Halloween."
Batman...well he didn't smile exactly but he didn't seem angry. "Do you know where you're parents are?"
"No. But thats okay. They don't like me."
Batman maintained a cool pokerface, "why don't they like you?"
"I don't remember. I think I knew when I was older-"
"Older?" The other boy interrupted, "Is this not your true age?"
Phantom pouted at him, any hopes he had of making a friend he didn't construct himself were flung out the window, "Yeah, but I don't remember it. Appearently I ate a time god and lost six-ish years from absorbing his powers."
There was a beat silence, then: "You ate a time god?!" Red Robin looked horrifed
"In my defense, I have no memory of what was happening at the time. All I know is that the place i used to live is in ruins and I'm dead."
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Dedf1sh/Acht character appreciation post (aka "wtf is wrong with yo shoes") (+theory)
This is based on their official render, where Acht appears to have oddly long shoes, making them look somewhat digitigrade (pic for reference below, taken from someone else's shitpost on the topic ; )
Sooo my theory for such funky-ass feet, is that Mr Grizz attempted to fuzzify them when Dedf1sh made the song "#caught" from RotM ; but the Fuzzy Ooze couldn't properly latch onto them, because they're sanitized and it only works on live cells ; so instead of the usual fur, it just slightly modified their body structure, hence the shape of their legs.
(And also why I drew them hiding a tail. In their official render, they only have 3 visible tentacles in their tentacut, so I had some fun theorising where it could be.)
I know it probably didn't need an explanation and it's most likely just Nintendo making questionable design choices, but it was fun to make.
And I hope you enjoyed it too✌️:)
Also I am doing some stuff regarding Side Order so look out for that 👍🪸
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does it get easier? : b.b
a few weeks have passed since Steve left to return to his old life, leaving those who loved him behind to try and carry on. but for some, it's easier said than done. (1.3k)
it's an angsty one, all I'll say.
masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop
Everyone could see the dark clouds swarming the sky, the never-ending wash of rain they brought with them for company, and the sight of you sitting outside with your head held low.
"It's still early days." Sam reasons, standing alongside Bucky and Wanda with heavy hearts.
The rolls of thunder quickly follow, but you barely flinch at the sound.
"She'll catch a cold if she stays out there." Carol sighs, emerging from the kitchen with a mug of coffee in her grasp before joining the trio to watch the glum view before them.
"Or pneumonia." Wanda huffs light-heartedly, still lost in her own mind to really focus on yours. "Bucky, why don't you go see her?" The witch suggests, and Sam glances out of the corner of his eye at the sight of Bucky tensing from the suggestion.
The former soldier shifts slightly on the spot whilst keeping an eye fixated on you at all times, noticing you tug on your jacket and your hand shaking.
"You're the only one she'll actually talk to." Sam adds, knowing it's true.
Out of everyone left, the only person you could honestly and openly confide in would be Bucky as he's all you have left of everything you knew.
Breathing out a yes, Bucky forces the door open and slips out. Before it's fully shut, his metal hand lingers. "Do you mind not watching this?" He asks, looking between the Avengers stood in front of him.
"But we're just getting to the good bi-" Sam starts, only to be jabbed by Wanda. "Sure." Clearing his throat, Sam curtly nods before walking away with Wanda and Carol, grumbling as he does.
Slowly, with his hands buried into his pockets, Bucky starts to walk toward you. He briefly stops, turning back around to see the others wearing disappointed expressions, notably still watching despite his previous request.
"Forgot this." Bucky motions to the umbrella as he slides the doors shut, waving the onlookers away, and this time, they reluctantly oblige.
In your peripheral vision, you can see someone approaching. Your ears perking at the sound of boots against the dewy grass, your hair sticking to you as droplets fall onto your jeans, soaking through to your bones. At this point, the coolness is like a second skin, it doesn't feel so bad after a while.
Suddenly the rainfall stops above you, yet you can still hear the delicate pattering and see it falling ahead. With a breath, your gaze lifts to see the large span of fabric covering you, and Bucky staring down back at you with a solemn expression.
"So," Bucky's tensing at his own words, unsure where his sentence is supposed to take him. "I was gonna try and make small talk, but I think we're a week past that, doll." Trying to lighten the mood, Bucky kneels beside you whilst your eyes stay fixated ahead at the courtyard.
"He always said he'd dance with me in there." A raspy voice unlike your own sounds, but you continue nonetheless. "Said we'd dress up all nice like we used to. Play some songs from the dance halls, you know the ones?"
Bucky nods, remembering those days all too well. You'd dance around without a care in the world, twirling in Bucky's arms whilst Steve remained a wallflower until you took his hand in yours. That was the first time Bucky saw a spark in little Steve's eyes, one that mirrored his own whenever he looked at you.
Bringing your legs to your chest, you avert your gaze from the courtyard, burying the thoughts. "Well, that'll never happen now. Stupid of me to even think about it now." Scolding yourself, Bucky shakes his head before sitting down on the damp grass.
"You know," He starts, furrowing his brows before continuing. "I always thought Steve was a terrible dancer."
And that's when Bucky hears it. The sound he's longed to hear that has been absent for weeks since Steve left.
Your hand rests on your face, trying to conceal your laughter with an ill attempt. "You can't say that!" You playfully nudge him, still smiling which hurts less than you anticipate.
Holding his free hand up in defense, Bucky shrugs his shoulders. "He was, always trippin' over his feet or getting stunned by all the dames. Unlike some." He adds, watching you roll your eyes at that.
"He tried his best." Your smile drops, picturing Steve with Peggy. "But sometimes best just isn't good enough, huh?" Tears return with ease to your eyes, pooling over the edge as the painful lump scratches at your throat.
Without a moment of hesitation, Bucky envelopes you into his arm, holding you into his chest. He knew his heart was beating faster than it should, but little did you know it was breaking into pieces at the sight of you like this.
"It's okay to miss him, doll. I know I do." Bucky admits, though there are thousands of things he would say to Steve if he could, knowing not all are as pleasant as others; the main question would be why leave you like this? Someone so perfect, so kind and caring. How could he leave you behind?
Sniffing, you bury your head further into Bucky and wrap your arms around him. You can remember the seldom occasions when you'd be like this with Bucky.
The first was when Steve was beaten up in the 30s for being different, you couldn't stand the sight then of his bloodied face. He ignored you when you tried to help, resulting in Bucky coming to your aid. The second time was when Bucky returned from the war alongside Steve. Everyone was looking at Steve, though he too had changed, something shifted in Bucky's gaze. Truth be told, you were relieved to have a friend back.
The third was when you woke up in a whole other world, unsure how you got there but saw a familiar face there ready to welcome you in open arms.
And the fourth, when Steve returned after returning the infinity stones. He had lived a long and happy life without either of you. The moment you saw the old man on the bench, your arms loosened from Bucky, and you haven't said a word until now.
"Does it ever get easier?" You dare to ask, the rain now easing up as the grey clouds begin to part ways, saying farewell for now. "To lose someone you love?"
Bucky allows the question to linger in front of him; his answer remaining on the tip of his tongue as his lips part. He misses seeing your smile, and the gleeful laughter you often shared together at the discussion of stories new and old. Yet, he always admired the glint in your eyes, saddened that it was always directed at someone else.
Easing his grip on your body, he sits upright, lowering the umbrella from above you both. "I'm still learning, doll." He sighs deeply, seeing your lip quivering before inhaling harshly. "But it'll get easier, I know it will."
"Yeah." Nodding along, you remove yourself from Bucky, unaware of the light fading from his eyes at the moment of the withdrawal. Forcefully wiping the stray tears away, you find yourself looking up at the sun shining down on you both. "At least we'll always have each other, yeah?" Your voice is laced with hope as you glance back to Bucky, who smiles softly at your words.
Rising to his feet, Bucky extends his hand to you which you gladly accept. With his other hand, Bucky reaches forward and brushes your damp hair from your face, wishing he could cradle your cheek in his hand before muttering his response. "I promise you doll, I'm not goin' anywhere."
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One Piece and Being Different
I could talk long and wide about all the things I love about One Piece, from the worldbuilding to the character writing to the political/darker topics it touches, anything. But one of the main reasons I personally love it so much and I don't believe has been talked about as much as it should, is how much it celebrates otherness. This is very much an overarching theme in the series because pirates by themselves directly go against society's standards, but this is focused more on a character point.
Objectively speaking, most OP characters are freaks and weirdos and strange and off putting, and it's good! Luffy specially, and he is the MAIN character, celebrates and embodies this weirdness to the extreme, and it's incredible how he manages to push this idea to other people around him too. It happens time and time again that he will meet someone and, the more different they are, the more he instantly wants them to join his crew. He is so incredibly driven by the wonder of discovering things different to him that he only feels happy about their existence, he wants to know and have fun with and love them because they're different!
And it has been acknowledged, the general effect Luffy has on people, how he manages to pull them to him like moth to a flame and recruit them to his side without even trying. It’s such incredible power, but it's also incredible how everybody around him, and especially his crew, always strive to become better for him, and most of the time becoming better, in OP, implies stop being normal. Being human, being acceptable by society's standards.
Like damn, the whole character plot of Luffy's fight against Katakuri was Katakuri coming to realize that he doesn't have to put up a front for other people, that he can keep going being himself, without hiding his monstrous features. That is when Katakuri stops fighting for his family and starts fighting because he wants to. And even after Luffy wins that fight he is respectful of Katakuri's wishes and covers his mouth with his hat.
Most of the Strawhat crew are really adopted strays, lost people and old enemies. They were othered, by people or circumstance, and Luffy gave them a home and a purpose. And in their increasing devotion to his cause, and through his constant love towards them, they have learned to stop being afraid of being different. Luffy will always accept them.
Franky had to quite literally rebuild himself into a living weapon, he chose to do that so his Battle Frankies couldn't be used against his will ever again, but despite being a cyborg he still looked mostly human. His pre-time skip design often shows how he pulls off his skin gloves to punch with his real metal hands. He was a criminal and shunned by his city and he was okay with that, but he still chose to blend in. After he joins Luffy he fully embraces himself and becomes quite extravagant in his own design, he is proud to show off his body modifications, he has fun with it, he accepts his cards and decides to use them at their full extent for Luffy. His metal parts in full display, painted with bright colors. Flame-shaped fists, changing his hairstyle at the push of a button, that is not someone trying to blend in anymore.
Chopper is a character whose biggest fear has always been being an outcast. He was bullied out of his herd for not being reindeer enough, he was hunted down by humans for not being human enough. Eventually, however, he learns that in order to be able to keep going, to defend his newfound family, he will have to become a monster for them, and he is happy to, because he would do anything for them. He knows that they will never think less of him for being a monster, for being different. These are some of the most extreme examples but every single character in the crew reflects this theme in some way.
We have people with extremely bizarre powers, shapeshifters, furries, witches, made up creatures, zombies, talking animals, talking food, living skeletons, a whole kingdom of queers, sea monsters, dragons, human experiments and so much more. In a series that mixes so many genres, so many themes, so many types of characters, such outrageous and unconventional character designs could have been used for mockery, or simply used as villainous traits as so many other stories do. And they are certainly sometimes cause of mockery, but it's rarely ever malign. In OP this extreme otherness is often a source of awe, a positive trait, something to be admired. It certainly is for Luffy.
Luffy is a main character that exclusively judges people by their true selves, beyond what they may be saying or doing, with his very keen emotional intelligence. In the world of One Piece, where the maximum power is held by the World Goverment, an organization that actively shuns everything different and is willing to sacrifice anything for the continuity of censorship, power and control, that turns a blind eye towards unaffiliated countries, the slave trade, and the underworld, that is willing to create agreements with some of the most feared pirates and allow them to continue to exercise fear in exchange for their assistance as brute force, Luffy and his recurring thread of freedom and acceptance is beautifully fitting.
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