#𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐢

[lamitails]

Art from yesterday!

[lamitails]

I made my own!! ^^

[fictionkin-culture-is]

Fictionkin culture is seeing any media of me and constantly watching it. Clinging to it for dear life with my teefs and claws and tails an-

- 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐢 🌿

Fictionkin culture is!

[lamitails]

This is the best way I can describe my species dysphoria

(it doesn't help that I used to, and still somewhat do look like Hector irl 😔)

[lamitails]

Edits for funsies (I accidentally put the tags of my other blog 😔)

[lamitails]

Random doodles!!

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HOUBA!

[lamitails]

More art 😔💔

[lamitails]

There’s a language I’ve never been taught, yet somehow, I’ve always known it. It hums beneath my skin, woven into muscle memory, etched into the echoes of a life that doesn't match the reflection in the mirror. It’s not made of words, not really. It’s in the flick of a tail I no longer have, the twitch of ears that aren’t there, the tension in shoulders that want to bristle like fur catching the wind.

Humans talk with sounds, letters, scripts etched on paper or screens. But my language—the hidden language—was never meant for that. It’s the sharp snap of a tail curling with excitement, the ripple of muscle under spotted fur when danger lurks nearby. A quick tilt of the head, wide eyes gleaming yellow in the dappled light, a silent gaze that speaks louder than shouting ever could.

I feel it most when the world gets too loud—when voices blend into meaningless noise, and my mind reaches for something ancient and wordless. I want to respond, not with words, but with body language that no one else seems to understand. A flick, a leap, a stretch that says “I’m here. I’m real. I feel this.” But instead, I sit still, folding my wildness into neat human shapes.

There are times I catch glimpses of it in others. The sudden shift in someone’s posture when they’re nervous. The subtle narrowing of eyes, the way fingers tap out restless rhythms. Instinctual, primal things. Maybe everyone has a hidden language buried somewhere inside them, but most forget it as they grow. They bury it under spoken words, learned behaviors, social norms.

But mine never stayed buried.

It surfaces in the urge to climb, to leap just because I can. In the itch beneath my skin when I stand still too long. In the phantom weight of a tail I swear I can still feel swaying behind me, balancing me, grounding me. It’s in the moments when laughter bubbles up—not the polite, practiced kind, but sharp, wild, and unrestrained, bursting out like a call across treetops.

I don’t need words to say who I am.

I am movement.

I am instinct.

I am the language itself.

[lamitails]

Silly doodle from class

[lamitails]

CW: EYESTRAIN!!

Some art of myself, mostly during breakdowns or my algebra class. After this year ends I'll be a senior.

[lamitails]

Thing I did on scratch

Me!! Real!!

[lamitails]

Sketches!

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Edits for funsies #2

[lamitails]

Silly memes I made!!

[lamitails]

Me real!!!

Clip(s) Source: (2009 - Houba Houba Hop, SEASON 1, EPISODE 7)