Okay but COLE GETTING HIS TUMMY RASPBERRIES AND HE'S TRYING SO HARD NOT TO GIVE IN BECAUSE HE WANTS TO PROVE THAT HE'S TOUGH BUT IT TICKLES SO BAD AND NOW JAY'S CHEATING AND SENDING LITTLE TICKLE SHOCKS ACROSS HIS HIPS-
NARGRHAAA PELASE I HATE YOU SM FOR THIS /j
he crumbles after trying so hard to maintain that little tough image but omgg nooo hes so tickly
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he had to hurt her like that, look at the cinema he made. did he? how do you know? the ends justify the means, huh. a woman could never actually act this well, it had to be real, a snuff film. yes, she was hired for her talent - but pain will make the talent brighter, right.
he is not alone. there are men around him who think like this. who choose actresses they can manipulate, exert power over. who write scripts that demand the pain be felt. she must hurt to uphold the message.
(an aside. author's note, i guess. in poetry, when the words cannot hold themselves up, we actually blame the writers. it shouldn't matter who speaks the literature. the words should carry their own weight. be their own scaffolding.)
the men in the room all applaud each other for doing less. they say they push boundaries. they're leaders in their field. they ask the hard questions.
when they get your resume, they put it into a pile that they will put into a trashcan. when they get your screenplay, they will use it as a coaster. when they build their museums, they will have a disjointed room dedicated to "repairing" the ways that women and people of color have been eradicated from "fine arts". it will be self-effacing. we may have overlooked some artists, they apologize. but really it's not our fault that white men make better art. (those men and their works are in permanent displays. for more on this, see: the way that he laughs at your work will make you sick to your teeth). in six weeks, their apology will be scrubbed and the room will be scrubbed and all the paintings will go back into storage.
they know they are right. sure, okay. maybe we have had less opportunities. but what would we have done with them? not something like this. it took a man to do this. okay, okay. it was deranged, we can all agree about it. but look at the product.
in your life, when you wake up, isn't it grand. if they made a museum for people like us, it would be a cycle of empty frames. of ruined videos. of songs with a voicecrack. all the little plaques reading some variation of a theme. here is where my work would stand if someone like me could actually get published in this fucking industry. here is the work i tried to make, before my agency was stripped from me. here is the placeholder of my dreams, but i could not afford them in this society.
if you keep walking, out in the greenhouse out back, the whole world is full of color. every fabric and fortuneteller and feverdream we spat out in despite. centuries of brightness, of novelty, of exploration. of talent, of wisdom, of creativity.
there is only one sign here in this alexandrian library. the sign acts like an epitaph. you already know what it says, don't you. THIS ISN'T ART, it tells you.
the blankets. the chef-level 5-course meals. the carefully-colored journal pages. the abandoned works-in-progress. the library of fanfiction. the margin drawings. somewhere in there, an actress makes a face, and you think - oh shit! she's really broken! but then she smiles at you, winking. she could do it, you know. she could always act like a starbeam. it's just that his name is the one scrolling at the bottom. she hadn't wanted to undress for him. she goes home and gets forgotten. in our museum, another blank frame goes up on the wall.
they'll give him an award, looking to the camera with almost an apology. he will laugh ruefully. nobody will do anything. little white strings will drip from his fingers. young boys in film studies will continue to chainsmoke while explaining how beautiful it is that there's violence in those scenes. she couldn't have done it without him pushing, he'll tell you, shrugging.
but what if, you wonder. what if he had never existed? without him, what else could we be making? all that time and love and spirit, allowed back into the light. into knowledge. what has he taken, to give us his art?
and is it a trade worth making?
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im sorry for keep sending u pics but i just wanted to remind someone that this existed cuz i swear the second it came up on my pintrest again i havent stopped giggling about it
love… NEVER apologize for sending me pics of paul, even if it makes me get a heart attack every time 😵💫😵💫 there’s just too much to talk about when it comes to that picture… like first off, he’s so fit it’s insaaaneeeee like?? the arms are the death of me honestly???? the necklaces are so pretty :(( his curls…. god…….. his hands and arms AAAAAA and his cute ass nose 🥺🥺🥺
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Here’s todays doodle page!!!
It features maples new face which is a massive improvement from before!!!!!
….. a big big improvement for sure.
I think Helios is absolutely adorable in his pretty boy stage face lol. His design is done, but I’m deciding on a few things for Artemis’ face. I’m thinking sharper shallower cheekbones to make her feel gaunt. She’s entirely too pretty for someone so sick.
Lushs’ face is a work in progress too! He’s keeping a lot of his old design for the most part, it’s just face shape I need to work on lol.
Oh and just undyne supplexing honey lol
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