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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the best way to luffy’s stomach is through his heart (or something like that)
a four page one piece fancomic in which luffy and law talk about luffy’s stomach
page 1
panel 1: a top view of luffy and law sitting in grass. luffy is leaning back on his hands with his legs outstretched. law sits crosslegged between them. they are both looking down at the hole in luffy’s abdomen, where law has used his devil fruit power to remove his stomach. “whoa! cool!” says luffy, while law hums, “hmm… interesting.”
panel 2: a close-up of law’s hand holding luffy’s stomach in its cube-like container. “it looks surprisingly average,” law says, “for a bottomless pit.”
panel 3: “isn’t it weird?” luffy asks. he is sitting with his back to the viewer, but his smile is still visible as he leans into law’s space. law is still crosslegged, holding the stomach, and he looks vaguely uncomfortable as luffy keeps talking. luffy says, “that thing can make food stop looking like food and start looking like poop! huh. wonder how it does that…”
page 2
panel 1: law looks off to the side, sweating and kinda grouchy. knowing he’ll regret this, he mutters, “i… know how… at least for NORMAL humans.”
panel 2: the back of luffy’s head takes up most of the panel as he demands, “what?! i wanna know too!” law grits his teeth and shouts back, “you’re just gonna fall asleep!” and luffy yells, “nuh-uh!”
panel 3: luffy grins widely, throws his arms out to the side, and flops onto his back in the grass. he’s loudly yelling, “tell me! tell me, traffy!”
page 3
panel 1: law is visible from a low-angle, as if from luffy’s pov on the ground. he sighs, “fine. here’s how it works.”
panel 2: this panel looks similar to the previous, but its slightly darker, with gray bars at the top and bottom, narrowing visibility to show luffy’s eyes are closing. law continues, “the stomach has two main functions.”
panel 3: law is now barely visible through the gap. luffy is almost asleep. law says, “the first, as YOU know, is the storage of food.”
panel 4: the background is completely dark, and law’s words trail off, “the second is—“
page 4
panel 1: a large, top view of luffy lying on his back in the grass. his arms are thrown wide still and his eyes are open. he has just jolted awake, saying, “hmm?” off-screen, law complains, “i don’t know WHY i bothered.”
panel 2: law accuses, “you didn’t listen to a word i said.” luffy sits up, his lips pursed and eyes narrowed because he’s a terrible liar. he says, “sure i did,” dragging out the “sure.”
panel 3: luffy breaks into a grin and proudly declares, “it’s a mystery!” law cuts him off with a “NO,” his speech bubble literally dripping with disdain.
panel 4: the silhouette of luffy and law sitting side by side. law is whapping luffy on the head with a light fist. law says, “idiot…” before bonking him. luffy yells, “hey!” but he is laughing, and a small “heh” shows law is too.
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|| inspired by the fact that's one of my favorite tropes, I present to you: kisses in the rain, featuring: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace [pt.1! Pt.2 will include Sabo, Law, Kid & Mihawk]
Luffy ㅡ It's unexpected, the abrupt switch from bright and sunny to torrential downpour as Luffy grabs your hand and tugs you with him, loud laughter making you join in as you bolt down the path back to the Sunny.
"Come on," Luffy urges and your yelp is half of amusement and surprise as you lose a shoe ㅡ unsurprising, they're not made for the sticky muck the ground has turned into.
"Luffy, my shoe!" You protest, tugging at his hand to make him stop so you can pick up the lost piece of footwear. Bright grin undimmed, he opts to simply pick you up, earning another yelp.
"There," he says, laughter still clear in his voice as he resumes running. It doesn't take long to be back on the deck of the Sunny, and he sets you down on your feet. "Man, that was fun!"
"It was," you agree, eyeing him and the way rain still pelts the brim of his hat before you lean to steal a soft peck. Luffy looks a little bewildered but nevertheless pleased.
"What was that for?"
"Nothing, I just love you." Both of you should undoubtedly change clothes, but the way Luffy lights up at your words is worth it.
"I love you too!"
ㅡ
Zoro ㅡ If he hears Nami's warnings about heading directly towards brewing storm clouds, it clearly slips Zoro's mind in favor of a nap in one of his usual spots. And as such, the rumble of impending rain doesn't wake the swordsman.
One drop hits his face. Two, three, four ㅡ and his eye(s) flutter when nothing else hits his face. Was that it? Not much of a storm ㅡ but soft laughter has him waking further to stare up at you. "What are you doing?"
"Making sure you can sleep," you say, "if you insist on being outside in the middle of a rainstorm."
"It isn't that bad." He'll complain later when his clothes are soaked, but for now? He's comfortable. "You'll get wet too, you know."
"I know." You shrug. "Worth it, if it's with you."
"Idiot," Zoro chastises, but it's fond and affectionate, accompanied by the lift of a hand to cup the back of your head and coax you down for a kiss. The awkward angle makes you giggle, and he grins at the sound of it.
ㅡ
Sanji ㅡ "Regretting grocery shopping with me now?" Standing beneath the overhang of the shop behind the two of you, Sanji turns to look at you, and you shake your head.
"Nope. I make a habit not to regret anything, especially if it's with you." Sanji stares, the lightest dusting of pink on his cheeks at your genuine words.
You hold a hand out, humming as water pelts your skin. "It's not so bad, I think we can make it back."
"You sure?"
You turn towards him. "A little rain never hurt anyone, Sanji."
He steps out from the overhang after you, watches as you hum and spin, arms spread out. "Like it that much?"
"I do," you answer, head tipped back and uncaring of the rain that soaks into your hair, plastering it to your face. "You don't like the rain?"
Sanji blinks, then shrugs. "I don't hate it," he says, and you crow hop towards him, reaching to cup his face before he can react.
Your lips are soft on his, a little cold and a little wet ㅡ but he still stares dazedly at you when you pull away. "And now?"
A slow smile curls his lips. "I'm being persuaded to like it more."
ㅡ
Ace ㅡ "Get back here you littleㅡ"
"Sticks and stones, Ace! Sticks and stones!" You call back, breathless with laughter even as the rain seems to come down even faster. "Don't tell me you're afraid of regular water too!"
"I'm not afraid of either one, but you're gonna get sick!" Ace gives chase despite his initial reluctance, enticed by the bright gleam of your eyes and childish grin on your face.
"So? Small price to pay to live today!" Ace nears you and then overtakes you, making you shriek as he staggers to a stop and brings you with him, arms locked around you. Steam curls off him like a wispy haze, his body heat seeping through your clothes and making you shiver.
"Love you," you murmur into the tangle of his arms around your shoulders, and he squeezes you in response.
"Love you too," he answers, letting up just enough to let you turn to face him before he kisses you. Slow and sweet, uncaring for the fact the two of you are drenched to the bone ㅡ that doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're here, and so is he.
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