#This is me GIVING A FUCK

[banannabethchase]

Adam finally takes that damned Chemistry midterm, and he finds himself in an unexpected conversation. Twice.

~

The final chapter! This fic ended up being surprisingly close to my heart and I am sending hugs to everybody who reads, kudos'd, and commented.

Thank you for reading this story and enjoying it with me. For some reason, this iteration of Mox and Hangman really got to me and compelled me to write them. I'm glad I did.

Mini playlist: Happier - Bastille All I Need Is You - The Click Five Paint You Wings - All Time Low Trouble - Twice I'm Only Me When I'm With You - Taylor Swift

Here's the Spotify playlist link if you would like to listen! Love, hugs, and HangMox!

~

Midterms, Adam thinks, are designed by the devil. Tomorrow is Thursday, the Chemistry test, and he’s less anxious than he was before the weekend spent wrestling and studying. Now, though, he has to force Mox and Eddie to go to a different end of the school to make sure he can get some final cramming in.

“But we had so much fun studying last night,” Mox had said, turning those puppy dog eyes on him.

“That was not studying,” Adam insisted. “That was blowjobs on the couch next to the study guide.”

Mox shrugged, grinning a little dirty. “And I’m down to study with you any time you want.”

Adam shakes his head, taking himself back to the present. He passed his AP Human Geography test despite him and Mox spending much of their study time naked, and his AP English in class essay. Now he’s face down in his Chemistry and French reviews during his lunch block, shoveling a mediocre sandwich in his face while he practices balancing equations and conjugating irregular verbs in French copies of Chronicles of Narnia.

He almost doesn’t notice it when somebody walks up to his table.

“Hi.”

Adam raises his head slowly. He’s still not used to lacking the curtain of hair he’s used as a shield for the past few years, so he meets the speaker’s eyes sooner than he expects.

“Um,” he says, locking eyes with Kenny. “Yeah. Hi.”

“Can I sit?” He looks nervous. Kenny look nervous.

Adam decides to be nice, and nods. “Yeah, course.”

Kenny settles fidgeting with his necklace. “I, uh, I wanted to apologize.”

“What?” He doesn’t mean to be rude. He really doesn’t. But he can’t stop. Kenny Omega doesn't apologize. The Kenny he knew always took on any moment and tossed it to the side, went silent when asked a question he wasn't willing to address. 

Kenny, to his credit, nods and smiles tightly. “That’s the response I deserve, I think. I’m sorry, specifically for being such a piece of shit after that one championship game, but also for, well. For not paying attention when you needed help.” He inches his hand near to where Adam’s rests on the table. But he doesn’t touch. “Adam, you didn’t deserve what I did to you.”

His first instinct, Adam realizes, is to lash out. To tell Kenny all the horrible things he’s thought about him in the past few months, make Kenny feel some of the shame that had been sitting in Adam’s belly since they lost that game, but it’s not there anymore. It’s transformed, settling in his stomach as something else. “I – I’m not sure what to say,” is what he settles for. “For what it’s worth, though, I wasn’t peaches and cream either.”

Kenny’s face crumples into something desperate. “God, I missed those weird things you’d say.” It’s kind. It’s not mockery – it’s memory.

“Unfortunately, you’d been right,” Adam says, and he edges his own hand, a little closer to Kenny’s. But still not touching. “I’d been drinking, hiding stuff in my water bottles.” He takes a deep breath, and confesses what he’d been holding for so long. That’s what the shame had turned into: accountability. “I was drunk for that game. That’s why we lost.”

Kenny, to his shock, shakes his head. “We lost because we, as a team, stopped communicating. I was the captain, and, god, your boyfriend" He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut. "I should – I should have seen all the problems, and I didn’t.” He runs one hand through his hair, but the other doesn’t move from its space devastatingly close to Adam’s. “I think we all fucked up, and I took it out on you." He's quiet for a moment. It reminds Adam, strangely, of his horses right before he opens the gate. Ready to rush out, let go, open the stride and run free. "And I was a coward, and didn’t tell Nick or Matt the truth, even when it hurt you.” He looks Adam dead in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

Adam sits with it, the apology and the truth that’s haunted him for months now. “Thank you,” he almost whispers. “And I’m sorry.”

Kenny’s fingertips close the gap, and something in Adam’s body sparks. Kenny is familiar, but so different than he used to be. It’s tantalizing, intimidating, impossible to ignore. He’d forgotten what being so close to Kenny felt like. And it’s so, so different from Mox. “I’m sorry, too.”

“You already said that.”

Kenny shrugs, his smile growing earnest, honest. Open. It’s the most beautiful Adam’s seen him in over a year. “I thought I might owe you more than one.” He looks down at their hands, and his eyes widen. “Oh. Um.”

“No, it’s okay!” Adam says. “You’re good.”

“I don’t,” Kenny says, “I, um, know you’re dating Jon Moxley –”

“It’s not exclusive,” Adam blurts out. He freezes. “I mean, not that -”

“I get – no, I understand, right?” Kenny laughs, a little panicked. “Yeah. I don’t – I’m not here to, like, get in your way or anything. I just know you need – deserved – an apology.” He pats the back of Adam’s hand gently, then moves away, rubbing at the top of his legs. “Blaming you was easy. But it was also wrong.”

Adam nods, wondering how to say everything else, how to apologize for not talking to Kenny. For not knowing how to ask for help. For letting the team down. He doesn’t know. He really, really doesn’t know.

Kenny gives him a strange little smile, then pushes his chair back. “I, uh, I’m currently skipping AP English, which is a felony, if you ask Mrs. Nguyen, so I better get going.” He stands, and shoots Adam another one of those devastating smiles. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

Adam nods, smiling back. “Yeah. See you around.”

He can’t get his face back to normal until after his study block and midway through his Chemistry review class, where Alex keeps kicking him under the table whenever he zones out. He does not know what he did to earn the love of these DND nerds, but he’ll do anything to keep it.

While balancing equations, Alex leans over. “What’s got you so zoned out?”

“Nothing,” Adam lies, unable to contain his smile through it.

“You have sex with Moxley in the wings of the theater again?” he whisper.

“No, dumbass.”

“Didn’t think so,” Alex says, nodding knowingly. “You look different when you have a Moxley moment. Last time I saw this…” His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Shut up,” Adam says, wishing again he had his long hair to hid the way his entire head turns red, “shut up. Do your stupid Chemistry practice.”

“If he hurts you, Silver and I will kill him,” Alex says earnestly.

~

His French test goes well, and he, finally, feels like he may be able to pull off a passing grade on the Chemistry test tomorrow. He lets himself think about just how he may celebrate tomorrow afternoon with Mox, when he sees him waiting at his truck. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Adam says. “You – is everything okay?”

Mox nods. “Yeah. I’m good.” He eyes Adam. “Are you?”

Adam nods, slowly. “Yeah. What’s wrong? You look weird.”

“I heard you ran into Kenny,” Mox says. He’s scuffing the bottom of his shoe against the ground.

Ah. That. “Yeah,” Adam says. “I did.”

Mox lifts his head. His eyes, to Adam’s shock, are red. “You guys getting back together, then?”

Immediately, Adam shakes his head. “No. Why – did somebody say we were?”

“Rumors,” Mox says.

Adam steps closer to him. “Are – are you freaking out about it or something?”

“I just don’t want to lose you!” Mox practically yells. Adam only flinches a little bit. Mox’s hands are shaking as he shoves them back in his pockets. “He’s your Eddie, and you’ve never done the whole more than one person, and that’s fine, but if you’re gonna go back to him, I need…I need to know, okay, because I think I can survive losing you, but…” He trails off, and when he looks back to Adam, he’s crying. Jon Moxley is crying. “But I gotta know, Cowboy. I gotta know if you’re choosing him.”

Adam feels the pieces of Mox shatter and collapse around him. To his surprise, the words come easily. He doesn't even have to pause to unscramble them from his mind; they're just there. “I’m choosing you,” Adam says, and he puts his hand under Mox’s chin, lifting it gently. “Hey. Even if he and I get back together, which isn’t even in the plan right now, I still choose you.” He smiles as hard, as meaningful, as he can. He doesn’t want to be the reason Mox looks like this. “Hey. Come on.” He waits until Mox looks up, meets his eyes. “I’m gonna keep you, okay?”

Mox is shaking a little bit, won’t meet Adam’s eyes. “You might not.”

“I will,” Adam promises. It might be too big, to earnest, too much for high school. But he shuts up that part of his mind. He’s not worried about what happens next. He only cares about who he has right now. “Mox, I want you.” Mox clenches his fists so tightly it looks like it hurts until Adam grabs them in his hands. “That’s not gonna change.”

Mox rests his forehead against Adam’s, but his eyes are still closed. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Adam insists. “Kenny doesn’t – he doesn’t get to have all of me anymore. If he wants me back, he’s gonna have to learn to share.” He lets out a little laugh. “To be honest, I don’t know if he’d be able to.”

Mox nods, then leans in, burying his face into Adam’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Adam like a lifeline. Adam’s not used to being the strong one, not used to being the anchor for somebody else. But he holds Mox, and he feels right.

“You guys okay?” Eddie pops up over Mox’s shoulder. He’s covered in wood shavings – he must have had his Woodworking final today.

Adam smiles, as gently as he can. “Yeah. I ran into Kenny today and…” He shrugs.

Eddie’s eyes immediately go hard. “Did you break his heart?” Adam wants to pretend he isn’t flooded with fear. “I swear, if you –”

“No, Eddie,” Mox says, lifting his head up. “I panicked.”

Eddie relaxes, and a knowing smile spreads across his face. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, voice a little teasing, “you thought he was gonna leave you.”

“Shut up,” Mox says, diving back into Adam’s shoulder.

“He done this before?” Adam asks, running his hand up and down Mox’s back as he sighs against Adam’s shirt.

Eddie nods. “Sometimes he forgets he’s stuck with me forever.”

“Not stuck,” Mox mumbles into Adam’s shoulder.

“What’d he say?”

“He said he’s not stuck,” Adam translates. “So, probably, he’s being sappy.”

“I’m not being sappy.” Mox pulls himself to standing, changes his posture. His eyes are still red, though. He rolls his shoulders. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a sap,” Eddie corrects, pulling him in for a rough kiss to the side of the head. Adam realizes that there’s so much of Eddie in Mox – in the mannerisms, in the word choice, in everything. He likes it that way. “Alright, Cowboy, where are we headed?”

“I have to pass my chem test tomorrow, so I can drop you both off at home and then I’m off.”

Mox shrugs. “I mean,” he says, “I could help you study.”

“Oh, god, no,” Eddie groans. “He tries that on you, too?”

“Yep,” Adam says. “Does he do the thing where he tries to look over your shoulder and,” he throws up finger quotes, “accidentally gives you a hickey?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, and Mox yells, “Stop talking about me like I’m not right here!”

The conversation lasts the whole drive.

~

Adam wakes up half an hour before his alarm from a bad dream, hands shaking and cold. He’d dreamt he failed the chemistry test so badly he got kicked out of school and became professional clown.

He’s afraid of clowns.

Fumbling, he reaches for his phone in the dark and checks to see Mox’s late night text. you got this cowboy.

He relaxes, and falls back against the pillows. He’s too wired to sleep, but he mentally reviews the material, to the point where he gives up on resting and jumps in the shower.

He probably shouldn’t, but, when he’s on his way out the door, he calls Mox.

“Zup?” comes Mox’s gravely sleep voice. It sends something fizzy through Adam. “You ‘kay?”

“Yeah! I’m good. I just, uh, I woke up early. I was wondering if you would want me to pick you up?”

There’s some rustling. “Yeah, I can – yeah. You feeling okay?” Something thuds. “Ow. Are you stressing out about your test?”

“Had a bad dream,” Adam says, grabbing a muffin before he puts on his jacket. “Freaked out. Saw your text and I was cool.”

“Aw,” Mox says, “you love me.”

“You love me too, asshole,” Adam says into the phone, grinning. “I’ll be by your place around fifteen, twenty minutes. Sound good?”

“Yup,” Mox says, “see you soon.”

And, because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Adam’s a sap, he hangs up with a, “Love you.”

Adam bops along to something saccharine sweet from a Happy playlist on Spotify, and sings along to all the songs, even the ones he doesn’t know.

He pulls into Mox’s driveway, where he’s leaning against the house with a cigarette in his mouth, looking exhausted. “Hey, stranger.”

“No,” Mox says, opening the car door. “Too tired. Can’t appreciate you being cute.” He exhales away from the door and throws the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his boot. “Give me, like, five minutes.”

“That’s fine,” Adam says. He just turns the music up louder, laughing as Mox whines. He stops at the Dunkin’ near the school as an apology, though, and gets Mox the sweetest, grossest latte ever, so he thinks he’s in the clear.

“You ready for that Chem test?” Mox asks, going for another sip of his monstrosity.

“I think so.” He pauses. “I hope so.” He fidgets with his seatbelt, suddenly too tight.

“Well, I have that block off, since it’s my free period. So text me when you’re done and I’ll meet up with you.” He shoots Adam the biggest smile he’s seen, and Adam thinks he may be able to pull this off.

He strides into school, Mox by his side, and gives him a kiss in front of the door to the testing room.

“You got this, Cowboy,” Mox says, half smile on his lips. “Go lasso that test or whatever.”

“I’m – I live on a farm, not a ranch!”

“Same difference!” Mox calls over his shoulder, but he blows Adam a kiss, and that does more than enough.

~

He hands in the test and practically bolts out of the testing room. Adam walks down the hallway, feeling lighter than air, the weight on his shoulders gone. He passed it. He knows he passed it. Somehow, he’s figured out how this stupid subject works, how to balance equations and when to use Avogadro’s number. He’s going to pass this stupid class.

The excitement deflates a little when he turns a corner, and there is Matt Jackson. He's standing, arms crossed, at Adam’s locker, alone.

“Oh,” Adam says. “Hi.”

Matt offers him a strained little smile. “Hey,” he says, voice soft. “I – are you busy?”

Adam shakes his head. He wants to say something, find the words to make this moment feel less like nails on chalkboard, but nothing's there.

Matt’s gaze skips over his face, like he’s trying to meet his eyes and can’t. “Can we talk?”

Adam nods, and the two of them make their way down the stairs and out the door. Adam notices that Matt deliberately does not stop at the soccer championship memorial bench from their freshman year of high school, and continues to the one in memory of a girl who died of cancer a few years ago. “So,” Matt says, “I assume you’ve heard the news about playoffs.”

Adam nods, finding himself strongly involved in the goings on of his hands. “Yeah. Um. Mox, actually told me.”

“About Mox,” Matt says, “are you, like, serious with him?”

“I’d say so.” They’re quiet again. Adam doesn’t like it. “Any reason you’re asking about him?”

Matt nods. “I talked to Kenny. About the last time we – you and me, I mean – ran into each other.” Adam risks a glance toward Matt, to see him head down, pulling at the ends of his hair. “He kind of, well, he didn’t lie, exactly. But he kind of skipped around the truth and let me make my assumptions.” He finally lifts his gaze. “I always thought you left us – him. Um, left Kenny. After the game.” He scuffs his shoes on the ground, something Adam’s never seen him do. “He never corrected me.”

Adam lets it sink in. Kenny, heartbroken in two ways, unsure of how to hold onto the last pieces of the Elite and Baller Club he has. Matt, unwilling to see Kenny in anything other than the glow of victory. Nick, frantically trying to hold together the last of the Baller Club that still lived.

And Adam, crying alone in his bedroom with a beer in his hand and an ache in his heart.

“Is he mad?” Adam asks. “He didn’t – doesn’t seem mad.”

“He’s not,” Matt answers. “He’s happy for you, I think. He doesn’t really talk about it.” He looks up. “We, actually, don’t talk like we used to. Like we did with you.” It feels like Adam's been hit by a train, but Matt keeps going.  “I think you were what made us work, Adam,” Matt says. He doesn’t look up. “Our team – the whole Baller Club – when the pressure was on, we sort of fell apart without you.” He rubs at his eyes. Adam can’t see if he’s crying. “It shouldn’t have taken until you were gone to realize you meant that much to us.” He looks up at Adam, and they're quiet for a moment. Adam still doesn't look directly at Matt, settling for studying the strange pattern on the shoulder of his shirt. “We messed up pretty big, didn’t we?”

Adam nods, slowly. “I think we all messed up.” He finally meets Matt’s bright, brown eyes. Neither of them break eye contact this time. “I’m sorry.”

A little tear builds in Matt’s eye and slides down his cheek. “I’m sorry, too. I should – I knew something was wrong, that day, but I was so focused on winning I just…” He trails off, squeezing his eyes shut, the tears following tracks down his face. “I forgot that you guys are what mattered.”

Adam makes a judgement call and leans in, pulling Matt in for a hug. He feels the tears he’s been trying to ignore for months build and fall, build and fall. Matt holds him back, tightly, and buries his face in Adam’s shoulder. He can feel the tears soak into his shirt, can feel Matt’s little gasps against shirt as he pretends he’s not crying.

“I’m sorry,” Adam says, gripping Matt harder. His hair still smells the same, and feels the same, still soft and silky.

“I’m sorry,” Matt mumbles against Adam’s shirt. He pulls away, wiping at his face. “I was so effing awful to you.”

Adam shrugs. “You thought I’d abandoned you guys. I get it.” And, because he can be a dick, too, he has to add, "But screaming that at me in the middle of the parking lot when I had a concussion did feel a little much."

Matt winces. “I can’t believe I did that, now. I really made a scene that day.”

“You did,” Adam says, gently. “But, I guess, I understand why you did it now. I get it.”

Matt nods. “Well,” he kicks at the ground again. His Jordans are messed up as hell – it’s unlike Matt Jackson to allow his shoes to look rough. “Since our season’s over, you want to, I don’t know, hang out sometime? All of us, like we used to?”

“Not like we used to,” Adam says, but he keeps talking before Matt’s face can fall, “but I actually have an idea.”

~

“What the fuck is a Beholder and how is it killing me this fast?!” Kenny yells. He’s looking back and forth between Uno and Adam. “How do I kill it?”

“Gotta ask nicely to see if we can defeat it,” Adam says. “Also, roll.”

Kenny gets a four. “Am I dead?”

“That depends,” John says, turning to Mox. “This Beholder is weak against the powers of the unicorn you rescued, but the unicorn will have to willingly give its tears." He raises an eyebrow. "And it can only do that with the permission of its master. Will you give it permission?”

Adam feels prickly as he watches Mox and Kenny lock eyes. Kenny, throwing his hair over his shoulder, trying to make himself admit he needs help. Mox, grinning, unwilling to give it without being asked. It’s the past and the present colliding, and it’s weird.

“What do you think, Halfling Cowboy?” Mox asks, nudging Adam’s shoulder. “You think we should save the human wizard?”

“You’re a human, too!” Nick says. He ka-caws again.

“Yes, Nicholas, we all know you’re a bird man, can you shut up so we can see if our only wizard is going to live?” Matt says. He’s practically bouncing on his toes, standing at the edge of the table. “C’mon, Mox, we can all survive if you let us use your unicorn.”

“It’s all up to my boyfriend, here,” Mox says, wrapping an arm around Adam’s shoulders. “Come on, halfling, what do you say?”

“Stop making me make decisions,” Adam says, “you possessive assholes. Of course we’re using the unicorn tears to destroy the Beholder and save Kenny, what kind of dickwad do you think I am?”

The game continues with this same energy, devolving into Nick exclusively communicating with various bird noises. Matt resorts to tackling him behind the table after he ka-caws while Matt is rolling and gets a three. Adam laughs harder than he remembers doing in a while, burying his face in Mox’s chest while John and Eddie berate them all for behaving like children. Even Stu and Uno, who have managed to break away and go on their own little quest involving saving the town, are having fun. At least, Adam thinks so. Neither of them have spoken outside of their characters the whole time.

“Can I use my connection with the fey kingdom to invade a different supernatural world?” Alan asks, frowning at the board. “Because I think we could get the giants on our side if we can get close enough and let Kenny’s mind control powers work.”

“I like the way you think,” Kenny says, leaning in closer. "That would give us enough power against the incoming Beholders."

“You can’t recruit another race to mind control giants,” John says, shaking his head. He pulls in Alex, and they whisper.

“Absolutely not,” Alex says. "That goes against the rules."

Mox scoffs. “You can’t talk. You’re dead.”

Alex glares at Mox. “And you’re a mediocre healer. Bite me.”

Adam snickers into his hand, and, when he turns his head, he locks eyes with Kenny. His smile is soft and kind, and Adam returns it. It doesn’t ache. Not anymore.

~

“Get in the car,” Adam says, grabbing Mox by the waist and shoving him. “Eddie, help me with your boyfriend.”

“Oh, he’s my boyfriend when he’s being a little shit,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “Typical.”

“He’s both of your boyfriend, and also right here,” Mox says. He shoves his hand in Adam’s back pocket, squeezing.

“Quit getting handsy and get your ass in my truck,” Adam says, and he pretends the way Mox’s hands find their way up under his shirt doesn’t make him shiver and hope for what happens next.

Mox shoots him a grin as he tries to slide into the front seat, but Eddie grabs him around the waist and pulls him out. “Not this time, Moxie,” Eddie says. “Backseat, bitch.”

Adam ignores the whining from Mox and slides into the driver’s seat. Eddie is laughing about something Mox is saying, head thrown back.

“I’m just saying, you’re not the one dating Adam, so I should get to sit next to him.”

“How about you get behind him,” Eddie says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, god,” Adam says, and he feels the blush hit him.

Eddie and Mox laugh at him as he buckles, and it feels warm and safe, like sunshine on a Saturday morning. “You two are the fucking worst,” Adam grumbles, grinning.

“You love me,” Mox says, pressing a kiss to Adam’s head. The hair is slowly growing back in, with the littlest curl at the end of each strand. “Admit it.”

“I do,” Adam says. “I really, really do.”

[butchdykekondraki]

once again thinking about the solid snake panty lines tweet

[visenyaism]

seven years ago in the name of tolerating free speech from all political perspectives my nasty ass evil university let an army of tiki torch wielding nazis shouting jews will not replace us march through grounds threatening the lives of students and community members with zero police presence. and today they retroactively changed campus policy around tents so they could send in the cops to bust up the gaza memorial vigil. genuinely fucking stomach turning

[payasita]

being a manager sucks balls half the time but the cashier kids im in charge of trust me enough to dick around in front of me so ive been keeping a running list of the shit they say that makes me laugh randomly: -"guys, is it cheating if you play fortnite with your ex" [4 seperate others, immediately]: "YES" -"there must be like… infinite sentences" -"bro what bro what the fuck bro what's that mean bro why'd you say that bro what" <distraught response to a girl randomly greeting him with 'hey there big boy' in an old timey transatlantic news reporter accent

[lesbianhallieparker]

Me every time it rains in the winter: IT SHOULD BE SNOWINGGGGG 😡😡😡😡😤😤😤🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

[lilislegacy]

Percy at ease

Percy calm, but a little on edge

Percy when mildly angry

Friendly reminder that Percy jackson - our beloved silly adorable seaweed brain - is absolutely terrifying. When he’s angry, when he’s scared, when he’s on edge - he’s not warm and fuzzy.

No other character gets that reaction from people. Jason (the sweetie) is perceived as calm and in control, nico (our favorite self-outcasted outcast) is perceived as solemn and creepy, reyna (girlboss queen slay) is perceived as confident and assertive, and annabeth (our girl) is perceived as fierce, clever, and formidable. They are all intimidating to an extent.

But not like Percy. No. Becasue even when he’s at ease, he’s described as wild and disobedient. And when he’s not at ease, even if just little bit, he’s perceived as powerful, dangerous, and scary. Someone who NOBODY wants to mess with. Nobody even questions his power. One look from him has literal gangs running the other way. One look from him has Leo so scared that he’s literally shaking, and feeling the same innate fright and alarm that he does when jason summons an ear-piercing, earth-shaking, deadly bolt of lighting.

like… HELLO??? can we all just sit on that for a moment?? good lord

One angry look from percy has people thinking one thing: Run.

Percy is, canonically, the character that people find the most frightening and intimidating.

And unless he’s in a good mood - which you better hope he is - the reality is that most of us would be completely terrified of him if we met him.

[meziniart]

Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Physically? I am sitting in my bedroom. Mentally? Spiritually? I AM DEAD ON THE FLOOR!!!!! THESE TWO HAVE KILLED ME!!!!

(Another drawing! This was originally attempt #1 at drawing stan, and then fiddleford just showed up. Kinda feels like them five minutes after the above acting like nothing happened though, so it works sdjkgkjfshj)

[liorlen]

gale origin playthru from astarion’s pov or smth like that

[literarymerritt]

Thinking about Them 🥺

Art Tumblr | Twitter

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[steakmakesnoises]

Find this moment from that episode funny for some reason.

[girlbob-boypants]

Dorian: Welcome to Tevinter! As I told you, it's beautiful and amazing and cultured and also has indoor plumbing. Basically the best place ever!

The giant floating castle that kills people with fireballs if they break the law:

[abyssalzones]

put me to work

[voice crack] hey guys I remembered how to draw

[bixels]

I watched Starship Troopers tonight.

[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.