Sometimes I feel very sad that I didn’t just focus on one creative skill. I look at my art some days and go I wish I’d spent all my time making only that, because that way it would look better and I’d do more and it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t write very well because my art would be amazing and I’d be able to make the stuff I really want to and maybe even get a job related to it and I wouldn’t feel like so much time was wasted. And often times it really does feel like you’re wasting time and everything is telling you to just pick something to focus on so it can mean something and you can never seem to pick one of anything.
And then other days I feel like an absolute GOD. Anyone else able to write your own fic and then draw art for it just because you can? Can you make an edit/amv after writing a silly little analysis post on the show/character that is so perfectly on beat and fits the lyrics and with transitions so slapping you get chills while watching? Can you write a short silly ditty on the guitar about how you’re feeling using the eight chords know and belt it out only a little bit off key then do a choppy little animation of your sona singing it?
I may not be the most skilled at all of the above, and it can be a little lonely to be a one man band who doesn’t play half as well as a lot of people out there, but when your power goes out or your wifi dies or you have a day off, everyone else is busy and you’re alone...
you play the best gosh dang music in existence
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Mirror
In the midst of a quiet night, she wander slowly through the hallway. A hand against the wall to keep steady. Everything quiet in a strange way. Tossing a basket of clothes on the ground with a clatter, something falling out and onto the carpet. Groan, echoing through the room. And then she turns.
The mirror is dirty. A bit of fogginess stuck here and there. Those eyes stare back, a purple rim beneath them in the soft, dim light of her lamp, lids half-fallen, uncaring. Her clothes a bit tattered. Stained. Especially those fishnets, covered in larger rips and tears. From fingernail clawing, rings catching, those late nights where she's torn them off before collapsing into bed, fluttering asleep without even turning out the overhead light.
Exhales. Lips quake, curving up in a confusing little way, a giggle kicking in by no choice of hers. The kind that takes control just enough to feel helpless, unsure. A hand greets it's image, pressing against, already starting to leave a print, and the laugh continues, weak and strained and strange.
She looks up again. A whisper on her lips.
"God, you are so fucking hot. Holy shit."
the end <3
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For International Asexuality Day, I'm hitting you all with the Ace Beam. ☺️
(This took a lot more effort than I thought it would, lol...)
Edit: 800 notes?! In less than five hours?! Thank you all so much!!
Edit 2: 2000... The most I got on any post before was just over a hundred, lol. You are all so nice!
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happy birthday gerard 🔥❤️🌹🥀🙏❤️
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"danny's ghost side struggles to leave amity park (his haunt) behind when the class goes on a field trip "
Happy Holiday Truce @sillysugargliders !!! I was your assigned gifter. I kept it kinda short, but I still hope you like it 😊
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