How To Make A Piccrew. Ive Been Making One For The Past While And Been Talking Abt It On Discord And

How to make a piccrew. I’ve been making one for the past while and been talking abt it on discord and somebody said they wanted to make one but didnt know how. So here you go. This is the worst possible tutorial and is more of a crash course but just. Do these things, and when you learn how to make parts and add colours etc just do that for everything. 

hope this helps y’all!! 

patti and dolly harmonizing to an acrylic nail beat

The Great Djaolang

design from scrapped book/zine project

Your Life by Andrea/Andrew Gibson

“It isn’t that you don’t like boys. It’s that you only like boys you want to be:

David, with his jaw carved out of the side of a cliff.

Malcolm, who doesn’t have secrets, just stories he owes no one.

Chris, the basketball hero with a tic, blinks fifteen times when he makes a shot.

You spend hours blinking in the mirror, wishing you could be a star like him.

Mary Levine calls you a dyke and you don’t have the language to tell her she’s wrong

and right. You just show up to her house promising to paint your fingernails red

with what will gush from her busted face if she ever says it again.

You’re in the 7th grade. You don’t even know you want a girlfriend. You still believe in the people who believe in Jesus.

can’t even feel that desire through its hell threat.

You just want to kick your desk on the way to the principal’s office, slouch in detention, cut your hair and spit

out whatever you don’t want in your mouth, your own name even, skirting around the truth.

You don’t yet know the boys are building their confidence on stolen land,

but you worry the girls might be occupied with things you will never understand,

won’t ever be good at. You take one pretty step and feel like you’re pouring bubbles

into your own bloodbath. You don’t want a soft death. You want a hard life that is your life.

Your life in that locker room that doesn’t stop demanding you keep your eyes on the floor.

Your life at the prom where you’ll run home in a snowstorm, chucking your last pair of heels

in a snowbank, realizing you are the only boy you ever wanted to tear your dress off for.

Your life the first Christmas you spend alone. The years you learn to build your family from scratch.

Your life the first time someone drags you from a restroom by the collar of your coat.

Your life each time airport security screams, Pink or blue? Pink or blue? trying to figure out

which machine setting to run you through. Choosing your life

and how that made you into someone who now finds it easy

to explain your gender by saying you are happiest on the road, when you’re not here or there, but in-between,

that yellow line coming down the center of it all like a goddamn sunbeam

Your name is not a song you will sing under your breath. Your pronouns haven’t even been invented yet.

You’re going to shave your head and drive through Texas.

You’re going to kill your own god so you can fall in love for the first time.

They’re going to keep telling you you are a crime of nature.

You’re going to look at all of your options and choose conviction.

Choose to carve your own heart out of the side of a cliff.

Choose to spend your whole life telling secrets you owe no one to everyone, until there isn’t anyone who can insult you

by calling you what you are: you holy blinking star.

You highway streak of light falling over and over your hard life,

your perfect life, your sweet and beautiful life.”

Lord of the Butterflies by Andrea Gibson (2018) p.3

fucked up how colors look different depending on what screen you’re looking at them on. that should be illegal I think