soon it'll be dawn again
transcript under the cut ⏬
page 01
Fig: no way? - you're still up?
Riz: Wh– yes?
Riz: Why'd I not be.
page 02
Fig: I me~~ean - that took.
Fig: whole day.
Riz: Yeah?
Fig: 'm beat.
Riz: you should sleep.
page 03
Fig: nah. my guy's still up
Fig: I wanna hang out.
page 04
Riz: That's really nice.
Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.
Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.
page 05
Fig: yeah, but you do it…
Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.
Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.
page 06
Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.
Riz: … - mm.
page 07
Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.
Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.
page 08
Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.
Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now…
page 09
Fig: Hey.
Riz: ?
Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.
page 10
Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)
Fig: o yea.
Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.
page 11
Fig: here u go
page 12
Riz: uh
Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.
Fig: I'll show u
page 13
Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try
Riz: uh - What. do I carve?
Fig: anything!!!
page 14
Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?
Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up
Riz: [blank speech bubble] - okay - wh. what's next?
Fig: haha - watch this.
(sound effect text): FWOO—MP
page 15
Riz: WH– DON'T JUST DO THAT???
Fig: Now it's fired!
Riz: THAT WAS NOT SAFE
Fig: (actually it's just dry. if u add water rn it'll dissolve)
Fig: ok catch!
Riz: [blank speech bubble] - careful!!
Fig: dw no need haha
page 16
Riz (thought bubble): oh - it's warm…
Fig: now I want you to throw this.
page 17
Fig: u gotta do it - c'mon
page 18
Riz: wh– - It's like 3AM right now
Fig: oh it's not /fired/ fired it's not gonna make a loud noise
Riz: And then just? leave a pile out here?
Fig: pour water over it & it'll be gone I told u
Riz: but
page 19
Fig (off screen): RIz.
page 20
Fig: I've done all this before.
Fig: Can you trust that at least?
page 21
Riz: no, I– - I do. - I trust you.
page 23
Riz: okay what happens now
(sound effect text): glob
page 24
Fig: we do it again!
page 25
Riz: wh. [larger than usual space] What do you mean. (this clay's too wet also)
Fig: see! you're already learning
Fig: [blank speech bubble] - there are flows that are futile to fight. - The world changes.
Fig: Things change.
page 26
Fig: I've learned my lessons with "forevers". - But - as an artist
Fig: I can give you one thing: - You can always do it again.
page 27
Fig: most of everything depends on the rest of the world, - but this. - making new. - that's yours as long as you want it.
page 28
Fig: So?
page 29
Riz: Yeah. - Yeah! - let's make another one.
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I never considered smokeyeyes before discovering your blog...now I can't stop considering it and how amazing it is
*slaps roof of the Gertude Agnes ship*: This bad boy fit so many dynamics inside!
They are old ladies! Only one of them looks like one! They kiled multiple people Agnes called Gertrude her anchor!!
Also, consider that Agnes knows Gertude way before she become what Sasha called a stone cold bitch- she was just a human
there is so much in this ship!!
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Get ready because it’s time for girl-dad!Simon Riley part 2.
We all know that Simon’s daughter would have him wrapped around her little finger. So, of course he’s going to spoil her with his military salary. She is never unreasonable about it but when she really wants something all she has to do is bat her tiny little eyelashes at him and it’s game over.
She has a wealth of Barbies, sparkly dresses, pink t-shirts with skulls on them and light up sketchers. Her favourite doll (much to your amusement) was a soldier action figure she had begged Simon to buy. “It’s just like you daddy!” She had squealed, little pigtails bouncing as she dragged him to see what she had found. 5 minutes later they had left the store GI Joe in hand, and Simon, with watery eyes (not that he would admit it).
When he is away on deployment it is the one thing she takes everywhere. She had very quickly been unable to fall asleep without it.
When Simon finally gets back he wants to spend as much time with his little girl as possible. You can’t count how many times you had opened the front door to find Simon’s huge frame hunched up on a tiny chair in your daughter’s room. His eyes were always warm and his scarred mouth set in a soft smile as he pretended to take sips of tea from the teensy pink teacup she had handed him. The sight of him there, messy blond hair filled with glittery butterfly clips, while being bossed around by a girl 1/10th his size never failed to be amusing.
And oh boy would his daughter boss him around. When they play dolls Simon is under a strict set of rules. One of which being that if he was going to play Barbies with her then he HAS to use his girl voice. Between his naturally deep timbre and his accent it is a bit of a strangled impression. But he gives it his all every time.
The idea of this big, scarred, war-hardened man being soft and gentle with his daughter has me down HORRENDOUS. I need to lie down—
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more incorrect quotes for the stillborn danyal au - dpxdc
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Student: so like,, *gesturing to Plasmius* is he like,,, your dad or...??
Phantom: he would be if he wasn't such a BITCH
Plasmius: excuse me
Phantom: YOU HEARD ME
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Under the Bleachers: Danny and Dash smoking in solidarity
Dash:
Danny:
Dash: do you have notes from Lancer's class today
Danny: since when do I ever have notes from Lancer's class
Danny: I can ask Tucker but only if you have notes from Abernathy's class
Dash: deal
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Sam and Tucker: *making s'mores with Danny's lava hair*
Danny, as Phantom: >:I
Sam: you're just mad because you didn't think of it first
Danny: yEAH
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Danny, freshly ghosted: ....
Danny: well. at least i dont need to waste money on lighters anymore
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Tucker: with how long your hair gets we may just have to start calling you rapunzel
Danny: don't you dare
Sam: rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your lava hair
Danny: NO
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Danny's hair tie breaks in the middle of a fight
Danny: fuck
Skulker: language child
Danny, pushing lava bangs out of his face: fuck you! just for this im turning your suit into molten slag
Skulker: waitholdonwecantALK--
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Danny: you know, by your logic Maddie is equally as guilty for abandoning you as Jack. She also never visited you while you were in the hospital.
Vlad, had put his infatuation with Maddie aside but still kinda had feelings for her:
Vlad: you're right
Danny, not used to an adult agreeing with him: I-- huh, I am?
Vlad: yes. If Dr. Walker had cared about me -- even if only as a friend, she would have tried to remain in contact with me. But she didn't. She is also as equally guilty for the accident that took your life too since she also failed to properly check over the portal for flaws and any improper wiring.
Danny: wait- wait, i mean--
Vlad: this means only one thing
Danny, bewildered: ???
Vlad, extinguishing all lingering feelings: I have to kill her too (somehow)
Danny: nO.
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There’ve been a few responses to/reblogs with tags on my post about DIY clothing embellishments that basically boil down to ‘I’d love to do this but I’m scared it’ll turn out bad/I’m not a good enough artist’. And I get it, I really do! I also want my art things to turn out nicely. But also...making it badly is sort of the point of punk DIY.
Listen. We live in a world that would dearly love to charge you a subscription fee for breathing. The bastards are doing everything they possibly can to figure out how to turn art - stories, visual art, music, textile/fibre art, sculpture, crafts and creations of every kind - into a neat, discrete, packageable commodity, a product they can chop up into little pieces and stick behind a paywall so they can charge you for every drop of it you want to have in your life.
The whole sneering idea that ‘everybody wants to be some kind of creator now’ and anything less than absolute mastery right out the gate is somehow shameful and embarrassing is a tool those bastards are using. It’s a way to reinforce the idea that only a set group of people can create and control art, and everybody else has to buy it.
But art isn’t a product. Art is a fundamental human impulse. Nobody is entitled to a specific piece of art (which is where this message gets skewed into pitting people who love art against the artists who make it, while the bastards screw us all and run away with the money). But making art belongs to everybody. We make up songs and dances and stories, and paint things, and make clothes, and embellish them, and carve flowers into our furniture and our lintels and our doorframes, and make windows out of tiny pieces of coloured glass, and decorate our homes and our bodies and our lives with things we make and make up, simply for the love of beauty and of the act of creation. Grave goods from tens of thousands of years ago show that ancient hominids gave their dead wreaths of ceramic flowers, tattooed their bodies, beaded their shoes. Making things for the sake of beauty and enjoyment is one of the most ancient and human things we can do.
The idea that we can’t, that we have to buy shit instead, because art is a product and you have to have the bestest prettiest most perfect product, is the enemy of joy. It’s the death of culture. And it means that, instead of whatever it is that you cherish and enjoy and value, you get whatever inoffensive (and to whom is it inoffensive?) bland meaningless samey-samey crap that the bastards want you to be allowed to have. What are you missing and what are you missing out on, if you don’t make or modify or decorate anything for yourself, if you don’t think you can because the product at the end won’t be polished or perfect or marketable enough? What do you lose? What do we lose?
It is a desperately vital and necessary thing for you to make shit. For you to know that you can make shit, that you don’t have to just lie back and take whatever pablum the bastards want to force-feed you (and charge you through the nose for). That the bastards need you more than you need them.
Become ungovernable. Be your own weirdly-endearing punk little freak. Paint on a t-shirt. Sing off-key in the shower or at karaoke night or at open mic night. Make up a story where you get to meet your favourite fictional character and you guys hug or fuck or punch each other in the face. Make art. Do it badly. Do it frequently. Do it enthusiastically. Do it for love and joy and creativity and fun and the spiteful joy of thumbing your nose at some smug motherfucker with a Swiss bank account who wants to track your heartbeat and location for the rest of your life in order to automatically pump AI-generated beats matched to your mood into your earbuds for a small monthly subscription fee of $24.99/month. It is literally the only way we are ever going to have even a chance to save art and our own lives from the bastards.
So. Paint that t-shirt.
(Also support artists where you can, and buy your music from Bandcamp.)
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