#And haven't for weeks at this point

[whysamwhy123]

Seeing as I'm not going to ever write it now due to Recent Events, I've decided to babble on here about this terrible idea I had for a big, elaborate comedy/crack fic. If I had been able to pull it off, I would have wanted to post it on either Halloween or April Fools Day because it's very much supposed to be dumb. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!

Keeping with my inability to come up with good titles, it was tentatively called ''Who Killed Tony Khan? A Hookhausen Mystery!''. At a company party where most of the AEW roster are gathered, Tony's giving a speech where he makes a mean joke about Danhausen, who decides to curse him. Tony then promptly dies on the spot, so now everyone thinks Danhausen is a murderer, no matter how much he insists the curse wasn't supposed to do that. He swears he's innocent. But no one's convinced. Other than Hook, that is. Naturally, Hook wants to clear the name of the man he loves so he and Danhausen have to team up once again, put on their detective hats and try to figure out what really happened to their boss and who's the true culprit. So the whole fic would have been a goofy romp with these two looking for clues, interrogating their co-workers and slowly piecing together the mystery. Obviously, it's not gonna happen now - I probably wouldn't have written it anyway because I'm nowhere near talented or smart enough to write a compelling mystery, but given the Stuff That's Happened recently, the whole inciting incident to that story now seems a lot less goofy and a lot more...distasteful. Plus, the dumb joke I was going to make at the end as a way to Deus Ex Machina the conflict away wouldn't work at all now (if you're curious, DM me about it, but fair warning, it's probably not funny to anyone other than me. And it's outdated now, anyway.)

Also...there were gonna be so many cocaine jokes in this fic. Like, enough that you could have made a drinking game out of it...

The thing is though...I still really want to write some kind of Hookhausen mystery fic! I don't know why but I really like the idea of Hook getting dragged into a situation so out of his element (like solving a fucking murder case - not exactly something in his usual wheelhouse) but willingly throwing himself into it because he just has to clear Danhausen's name. Why, yes, Acts of Service is one of my love languages, how did you know? So the more extreme examples of that, the better!

Hell, maybe I go even more out there and make it some kind of Film Noir AU. Hook as this young but still hard-boiled private eye, roped into some strange criminal plot with a heavy supernatural twist, thanks to Actual Demon Danhausen. I don't know, I just love dumb stuff like that, feels like it could be fun to play around with *shrugs*

[inkskinned]

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.

[horreurscopes]

ELEKTRA: I am the shape you made me. Filth teaches filth.

(prints)(process video & high res)

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[hermit-frog]

if no danlou then wth is this all about, huh? jk, unless…

[natelia-aldelliz]

Ghost after meeting Soap.

Price : Have you slept?

Ghost : Depends what day it is

Price : Go to bed.

[boringa55binch]

GGY WEEK DAY 1 - SCARS

"It's not your fault..." If those words could only take away the scars in his heart.

@ggyweek2024

[dont-let-me-eat-pears]

things that are Too Much: both times lancelot dies, the last face he sees is merlin's, and the last thing he does is smile.

[sprout-fics]

If purgatory does exist, it exists in the form of job hunting

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

More MDZS and Hollow Knight! The cool bugs I found in my backyard have started to unionize.

Part 1 - Part 3

[aworldofendlesswonder]

oh hama bead sg-1 we're really in it now

[thebramblewood]

THEM!!!

[lorephobic]

literally nobody asked for it, but here's my list of saltburn essays that i've slowly been drafting over the course of the last week which WILL be required reading for anybody trying to engage with me about this movie. my very personal saltburn 101 syllabus just dropped

A Wolf in Deer's Clothing: Saltburn's Attempt at Innocence

an examination of party costumes and our character's last attempts to masquerade as something they're not: felix—an angel, all-forgiving and all-knowing, something to be worshiped; and oliver—a prey animal, prey to class-divide, prey to saltburn, prey to felix.

thoughts about oliver specifically are loosely organized in my #bambi tag

A Midsummer Night's Mare: Farleigh Start as the Ultimate Victim of Saltburn

a farleigh character study, about the ways he was mistreated and manipulated at saltburn, about fighting to stay alive and the scars left behind by knowing when to give in

alternatively titled "QuickStart", may be adapted into a conclusive essay specifically focusing on oliver and farleigh's relationship

The Eye of the Beholder: On Saltburn's Voyeurism & Violence [working title]

how wealth and class pushes the catton's toward the volatile reality of being able to look, but not touch. on desire and the lack thereof, and portraying yourself as an object to be desired

may end up as two separate essays on wealth and aestheticism but i'm pushing toward a conclusive essay about the intersection of the two, which i feel is at the heart of saltburn

alternatively titled "Poor Man's Pudding: A Melvillian Approach to Saltburn's Class", again, may be adapted into it's own essay

Gender-Fluid: A Study in Sexuality and Saltburn's Desire to be Dry

a deep dive into the bodily fluids of saltburn and how oliver upsets the standard of men who are just so lovely and dry. on the creative choice to lean into the messy wetness of sex and desire and the audience's instinct toward repulsion

a celebration of the grotesque and an examination of why we would label it as such

least developed of the four, heavily inspired by @charnelpit's lovely post about the fluids in saltburn

if anybody is actually interested in any of these, i can work toward something closer to a finished piece instead of just bullet points and quotes in a google doc, but mostly this is so i can share my very brief takes on a multitude of themes in saltburn that have been haunting me

edit for people seeing this in the future: all posts about my essays are being organized into my #saltburn 101 tag if you’re interested in following these through to development!

[johnslittlespoon]

tas john's havin the best day of his life in ch8 btw

[harunefrog]

I drew a thing!!! You know this one!!!

[marcelineuntitled]

fanart for This Is Not The End by @kings-highway

potentially my favourite fic ever!! <3