i always think i don’t like jegulus but then i go on tiktok and see one (1) edit and it’s over ☹️
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the evolution of maddie’s heart necklaces is something that can be so personal
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There’s certainly something about the Zac brown band cover (live) of enter sandman
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best friend megumi fushiguro who doesn't let anyone else get close to you, especially not someone who he knows just wants to get into your pants. he'll stand behind you, his stare intense and deadly, a subtle baring of teeth, until the guy fumbles over his words and dashes away.
megumi knows you're a virgin, never even had a proper boyfriend once the dark haired boy found you — there's no secrets between the two of you. well, almost no secrets.
you didn't need to know the way megumi couldn't help himself when he was alone in the darkness of his room, fist wrapped around his aching cock, moans muffled as he stuffed his shirt is his mouth. a small part of him wished you were here with him, that it was your hand stroking him and making his tip leak that pearly white. or better yet, maybe you'd let him take your virginity. maybe you would beg him to make love to you, spread your pretty thighs apart so he could go right where he belongs.
he wonders how it would feel, being buried deep within you. he was a virgin, too, after all — saving himself for you.
but your first time together would be special, it would be perfect, not some rushed and sloppy fuck because of his carnal desires. megumi needed to be patient and let everything fall into place. he couldn't have you running off to someone else when you two were made for each other.
so he waits for you to realize that fact, too.
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[Monster High] so since pink lagoona is a hot topic in the fandom, i though it'd be a fun challenge to try and make some pink lagoonas myself. there's actually a lot of material to work with imo!
these are all essentially looks for a recolored g1 lagoona, only the last one being intended for her g3 personality. i wanted to make more for g3, but didn't quite like them in execution, so maybe another time..
tropical treasure: beautiful, glamorous, colorful, but a bit more of an aquarium decoration than a strange beast. loosely inspired by bettas
ghost ship cruise: etherial haunty lagoona, inspired by jellyfish. light, translucent and probably cold to the touch
coy classic: elegant mermaid pond lagoona, inspired by koi fish. this one is kind of an amalgamation of her g1 dolls that exists in my head tbh
little axolotl: cute and quirky, like the new lagoona. inspired by axolotls and sea slugs :)
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ppl who are like “there’s no way sokka’s art skills would improve, he’s ontologically bad at art” ummmm. dude. you realize that this is the mary sue of hobbies, right? this guy could out-westley westley. he would develop an immunity to iocane powder in less than a week because he’s just that prodigious. he became a kyoshi warrior who could best their leader in a matter of hours, and this was the first time he had ever trained in his life with an actual teacher and opponent. he mastered the sword in one day, if we’re to take piandao’s word for it (and considering his name is literally sword, he is clearly an expert). sokka looked at the rough schematics for hot air balloons after the eminent inventor in the world had spent who knows how long not able to get his idea to actually work like “uhhh…. this may sound obvious, but have you tried a lid???” he has borderline supernatural aim with a boomerang. he was dropped into a haiku battle knowing nothing about the form, and not only beat the leader of ba sing se’s premier haiku club, but also chose, completely unnecessarily, to make each verse rhyme. if he actually sat down and practiced drawing, maybe with some instruction from a trained artist, or easier beginner’s materials than ink and a brush (you’ve all seen my art, and I still cannot paint with ink and a brush), I think sokka would easily be able to produce a work on par with (if not superior to) the mona lisa by the following morning.
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
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