-Jumps out to say hello after your entire traveling party was just slaughtered -Decorates his hat with flower print fabric -“Bet they don’t have anything as nasty as Yao Guai out where you come from, huh? -Is so pure he thinks pick-pocketing is some sort of outsider ritual -Says you don’t need to steal from him because he’ll share
Keith Haring creating street art in Japan. Photos by Juan Rivera, 1988.
“The context of where you do something is going to have an effect. The subway drawings were, as much as they were drawings, performances. It was where I learned how to draw in public. You draw in front of people. For me it was a whole sort of philosophical and sociological experiment. When I drew, I drew in the daytime, which meant there were always people watching. There were always confrontations, whether it was with people that were interested in looking at it, or people that wanted to tell you you shouldn’t be drawing there…”
“I was learning, watching people’s reactions and interactions with the drawings and with me and looking at it as a phenomenon. Having this incredible feedback from people, which is one of the main things that kept me going so long, was the participation of the people that were watching me and the kinds of comments and questions and observations that were coming from every range of person you could imagine, from little kids to old ladies, or art historians.” - Keith Haring
(Keith Haring: The Last Interview,” Arts Magazine, September 1990)
don’t tell me it was for nothing - you know all too well i only deify what’s not good for me. i gut your sorrows one by one, surgical atonement at the butcher shop, knit together the damaged bones. i mould them into relics. it’s blurry, freckled with rain out. you ignore occurrences of tunnel vision. i am foregone. i sit doll-like in rooms after the delirium of black light parties. i study the outline of the murder by which i mean, the baseline of the universe. by which i mean, the fissure of your body. i watch the milk spoil (like our love). mornings we burned our tongues on overcooked words, the cigarette you left in the kitchen, a funeral for your teenage habits, a prodrome of all your kid-your-parents-warned-you-about achievements. the way the blood vessels clog the necrotized heart, your throat chalk-full with absinthe, a childhood revision of daddy’s latest sin. remember the town house? the newspaper boy bringing the latest world-ending headline to our doorstep, the suicide lake with its dead swans? somehow it always ends in dull mutations of tv static, saying grace around a table of estranged ghosts.
I got an idea and wrote a thing over the course of a few days that started out trying to take the Cross x Dream comic’s plot and make a Dreamswap version of it, minus the pairing.
Originally I was trying to prove what a hilarious disaster it would be if that same concept happened in Dreamswap (even without the pairing) but then it shifted into something else entirely and actually turned out KINDA GOOD??
Also, since I haven’t had a chance to mention it, DS!Nightmare’s staff is actually more of a weapon than original Dream’s. The crescent moons are sharp; on one end, it’s double-sided, and on the other, the outside is dull so he can dramatically stand there with his hands on it.
Cross: Nightmare, help me the frick out.
Nightmare: Ugh, what now?
Cross: Help me help Ink realize that he’s an idiot.
Nightmare: Well, brutal honesty and harsh criticism are what I do best.
Anonymous:I hope this isn’t too basic, but I have a V day request… the reader and Spencer both end up at the same library, but alone on Valentine’s Day. They realize they have the same taste in books, and after talking for hours, they leave to go have dinner together at her apartment. They aren’t dating yet, but the team 100% knows that Spencer got some when he returns for their next case. 😆💖
A/N: This is a longer than my other fics so I had to add a “Keep reading” banner thingy, sorry I didn’t want to annoy the people scrolling down the tags haha <3 I had so much fun writing this though <3 <3