#arg nsft

[prettypopforever]

HI! Welcome to the official account of Sonnett Beatse! ✨

(PLEASE DON'T TELL MY BOSSES I'M BEHIND THIS ACCOUNT (;0.0) ...)

I Heard the fans saying they wanted to see me with a blog, so i have provided! and let me say, it feels good to have something all to myself. (^w^)

When i have the time, I'll be posting ~sneaky~ insiders, silly videos, and even answering questions from YOU: THE FANS! So,

Join me on my online adventure If you're a Sonnett superfan, And feel free to stick around so watch me work my magic! Love you! , KISSES~~~ (>^3^)>

are they gone?

i'm sonnet, (THEY/IT/NOTE) the person behind this account. irl darling, nsft. anybody lookin' for a virtual punching bag or somebody to coddle just a little too hard, this is the place.

Blog is inspired by Perfect blue, Sexymax2019, and We're all going to the world's fair. Half pcrn, Half art.

thr€@ts, st@|king, asks and unsolicited messages are encouraged. n0ncon, fe&rplay, and traumatization are favorites of mine.

DARK TOPICS WILL BE PRESENT. i have very few limits. (un)s-fe space for everybody, especially the weirdest of the weird.

overbearing, delusional fans and spiteful sadistic st@|kers alike are welcome. intended for queer people, as op and Sonnett are nonbinary alike.

op is 19 ❎ i'll be hidden in Sonnett's posts, at the bottom. come find me.

I love my obsessors, We both do.

asks are always open, and i bet you can't find my out of character blog. have fun.

[bloodblanks]

30 frames per second [ben drowned x reader] — chapter i.

You have overbearingly strict parents who forced you into studying a degree that you don’t even like, and now you’re stuck having to write a thesis paper for it. But whatever, you can handle it. That is, until your computer starts running into some problems.

co-written with @blxrrii and @heartsfromvenus! ♡

author’s note: this fanfiction will not contain much, if any, dark or explicit content, but nonetheless,

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

chaos theory noun noun: chaos theory

the branch of mathematics that deals with complex systems whose behaviour is highly sensitive to slight changes in conditions, so that small alterations can give rise to strikingly great consequences.

‘It’s all because of that damn phone!’ 

That’s what your parents would have said when looking for the root cause of the problem. 

This time though, they’d almost be right. Almost. 

Except it wasn’t your phone that had started all of this; it was the PC. Which for some reason, your parents seemed to worry about less than your phone. Why did your phone always have to be the scapegoat? You were sure they wouldn’t have got you one if it wasn’t a necessity nowadays. 

Anyway. 

A prominent concept in chaos theory was the butterfly effect. The idea that a single flap of a butterfly’s wings could later cause a typhoon. That was what would soon become of your life. Not that you would’ve known originally, and not that you would’ve been aware of until it was over and done with. 

And it all started because of that damn PC.  

—

You yawned, stretching out to the edges of your bedframe with your fingers splayed. Rolling over to your side, you carefully inspected your alarm clock, a slight grimace on your face as you stared at the time. 

You had spent the entire morning doing nothing. That was your final conclusion, though you were confused about how it happened. Not that it mattered much because it was technically still early. Or at least early enough. 

The day had only begun not too long ago, your first class of the day yet to start. There was still some time to kill, although you figured you should at least get out of bed instead of lying there scrolling through your phone. 

With a groan, you reluctantly got up, making your way to the kitchen of your too-large, too-extravagant home. Your house stood at a grand height of three stories tall, not including the basement and the attic. The rest of the house was filled with an abundance of rooms, far more than your small family of three would ever need. You supposed it made sense, though, seeing as your parents didn’t have much else to do with the money. With no siblings to pay for, your parents only had to cover their living expenses, yours, and your studies, which they had more than enough for. 

You absentmindedly gazed around for something to eat, eyes scanning over your kitchen in hopes that you could locate what you wanted before your parents noticed. It wasn’t as if they’d berate you for eating, but as odd as it was, something about eating in front of them made you deeply uncomfortable and shy. 

Quickly glancing over your shoulder to make sure nobody was there, you opened your secret snack drawer, quickly picking something out before covering it up again with the small hand towels that were carefully balanced on top of it. 

Satisfied with your stashing, you started to make your way upstairs, which was a surprisingly long route due to the size of your home. You had just reached the top of the staircase when you ran into your dad, who took it upon himself to start a conversation. 

“Y/N, shouldn’t you be getting to class?” His voice was hoarse, presumably because he had just woken up. You stared at him blankly, wondering if it was a genuine question or just a bad attempt at conversation. Where else did he possibly think you were going?

“Yeah, I’m just getting ready.” You took care to mask the irritation beneath your voice, knowing that your dad would be upset if you didn’t, which wouldn’t end well for you. You weren’t particularly in the mood for a lecture today. Not that you ever really were. 

You didn’t hate your parents or anything, it wasn’t like that. You loved them to some degree, in a familial way… but it was hard thinking of them as anything more than that. You’ve heard of people who describe themselves as having a friendship with their parents, but that was never more than just a mere myth to you, having never seen or experienced it yourself. 

Besides the occasional bout of teen angst and puberty mood swings, you mostly got along with your parents. The problem was more so that you weren’t close to them. You didn’t understand them; they didn’t understand you. 

But the one thing that really wedged the distance between you and your parents was the fact that they were strict. Overbearingly strict. 

Often, outsiders thought of your family dynamic as ‘sweet,’ hell, even ‘perfect.’ Of course, they had no clue what it was like to actually be in it. You didn’t think they’d say that if they lived it like you were forced to. 

Sadly, no matter how much you wished for it, you couldn’t swap places with them. 

How badly you wished that you could, though. Because despite being a fully grown adult, legally able to vote and drink at the fine age of twenty-one, in their eyes, you were and always would be a child. 

And so, your existence came with a clear set of rules. 

Those rules had been around for as long as you could remember, though they were rudimentary at first, minor things such as no snacks before bedtime. However, as you aged, their rules became increasingly noticeable and more frustrating to follow. 

You had to alert your parents each time you left the house, school being the only exception. You had to tell them where you were going, how long you would be out for, and who you were with. Oh, their parents’ phone numbers had to be included in your report, as well. Curfew was 7PM sharp, right at dinnertime. Sleepovers were out of the question unless they took place at your home. 

Dating was strictly forbidden, and all activities related to that went along with it. No kissing, no making out, and god forbid you even bring up the topic of sex, not that you would ever dare to, not that you would ever have a reason to. You weren’t sure what they were thinking because you were sure that your parents also expected you to get married and have kids someday, so you were utterly confused as to how they expected you to do that. 

Underage drinking was out of the question, even though you were sure that most teenagers did it, anyway. But despite the law now permitting you to do so, your parents had made it clear that you were not allowed to drink still. Smoking and doing drugs? You’d probably be disowned, that is if you weren’t dead. 

It was ludicrous, really. And what was even worse was that on top of all of that, you were not allowed to play video games. 

It was something along the lines of ‘video games cause violence,’ ‘video games will distract you from your studies,’ ‘video games are a waste of time,’ and ‘video games are bad for you (just because).’ 

You remember having approached the subject once, and your parents responded with a such intense, passionate hatred for video games that you never thought to bring it up again. 

Sure, you supposed you could have secretly played free phone or PC games when away from the hawk eyes of your parents. Still, after hearing so much negativity towards gaming, you had become disinterested. After all, you couldn’t have even known what you were missing out on. 

Your parents’ behaviour resulted in you being extraordinarily sheltered and mostly unsocialized. Kids your age… didn’t really want to hang out with you. You weren’t bullied, but even in your private school with classmates like yourself, you were still sometimes called names such as a ‘goody two shoes’ or a ‘teacher’s pet.’ It wasn’t like you wanted to be that way, but that didn’t change anything. 

Nonetheless, you were separated from most of your peers, often listening to them talk about a party coming up on the weekend, or a group sleepover at someone’s place, knowing that you would never be invited, and even if you were, it wasn’t like your parents would allow you to attend. 

Of course, a portion of children had lives similar to yours, and from that portion, your parents carefully handpicked your friends. 

Rachel and Selina. Those were the friends that your parents had chosen for you. From an early age, they had been in contact with their parents and, from there on, set up play dates, dinners, hangouts, and even sleepovers—at your place, that is. Even with the selected friends, you still weren’t allowed to sleep at their homes. 

The two girls weren’t necessarily the greatest of friends. It wasn’t that they were mean or rude; they were just so incredibly bland. 

There was nothing of joy that any of them talked about. You never experienced the typical teenage girl discussion of boys and high school crushes, instead being forced to converse about school, grades, plans for the future and so on. This by itself wasn’t so much of a problem, but the fact that they only conversed about the same three topics made them absolutely unbearable to listen to after a while. You wondered how they could possibly not get bored of going on and on about it. 

“You better hurry up, then!” your father exclaimed, yawning as he passed by you, making his way down the stairs and likely into the kitchen for his breakfast. 

—

Class came and went relatively fast. You only had a singular class today, but your mom still insisted on driving you to and from school. 

When you got home, you flopped down at your desktop, grabbed your planner and flipped through it to find the current day’s tasks. 

Mere seconds after you flipped to the correct page, your expression soured, a frown making its way to your face as you read the first item on the list. 

Work on thesis. 

You had already suffered through three years of university, and now in your last year, the final step for your bachelor’s in pediatrics was to write and complete your thesis paper. You weren’t even particularly fond of the subject, but it was the best choice out of all the ones your parents had listed as acceptable. 

You had written many difficult papers throughout your life, but this one had to be the most intimidating one of them all so far. You had started writing it not too long ago, although you had been putting it off simply because it was rather dreadful to work on. Still, it was only a matter of time before your parents found out about your procrastination, so you figured that you should force yourself to make at least some progress. 

A long sigh escaped your lips as you closed the small planner in your hand, mentally preparing yourself for the gruelling task ahead. 

—

The longer you sat in front of your computer screen, the more you felt like your brain was melting into goo. It was as if something in your brain had overheated and fried itself, and now you were no longer processing information, left to blankly stare at the words before you that now meant little more than unintelligible symbols. 

You weren’t even close to being done with your thesis, you had written just about 1,700 words prior to this, and you now totalled at 2,352. Considering how you had browsed the internet, done chores, and completed other assignments throughout this to avoid your essay, you felt like you had done a surprising amount of work. Not that it was anywhere near enough. 

Nonetheless, you were now sitting at the desk, mind slowly rotting away, regretting your decision to procrastinate so much. Perhaps it would’ve been easier if you had done this sooner when your mind was less tired from doing work. 

But you couldn’t do anything about it now. 

When you thought about it, you weren’t entirely sure as to why you put off your assignment for so long. While it was probably the most torturous thing that schools could’ve devised, there surely had to be more to it. 

Were you just stressed? Perhaps it was the sheer amount of pressure your parents put on you with their near unattainable expectations. Maybe it was because you didn’t even enjoy the subject you were studying, not looking forward to graduating and finding a job because you didn’t even want a career in pediatrics. You wondered if you should’ve fought your parents back then to study something you actually liked, but you quickly shrugged off the thought. It was pointless to defy your parents, not that you would know, because you never even bothered to try. Regardless, it wasn’t like you knew what you even liked because your parents didn’t care for you trying out things that they deemed useless to your education and future job. 

Or perhaps you were just highly sick of being a caged bird with its wings clipped for extra safety measures. 

You tried to take your mind off of those thoughts. It wasn’t like anything would change. Your life had been like this for as long as you had known; there was no reason for things to be different. There was no one to rescue you from your dilemma. 

You slumped down in your chair, seemingly having a staring contest with the glaring white screen before your eyes. The blinking cursor served to further taunt you, mocking you for not having typed out anything new onto the blank canvas. 

The most sensical solution, at this point, would be to shut off your PC, get some rest and pray that the next day will be better. However, you were feeling stubborn. You had set your goal for a minimum of 2,500 words by the end of today, and you were going to continue staring at your screen until you eventually thought of something. 

You wouldn’t get anywhere, but you didn’t want to admit to that. 

And so, you moved your mouse around slightly to prevent the screen from turning off. You sat back up from your slouched position on your spinning chair, pressing the space button and trying to force whatever flow into… flowing. 

“This is such bullshit.” you sighed, remembering that you didn’t have to lower your voice at the current moment—your parents were not okay with you cursing—seeing as your parents were thankfully asleep in their bedroom across the hallway. 

You wished you could’ve moved out of your parents’ house when you started university. Still, no matter how much pleading and crying you did in front of your parents, they refused to let you be out on your own, instead making you take primarily online courses, and driving you to and from the mandatory remote ones. 

You were infuriated, but you gritted your teeth and obeyed because you had no choice; you wouldn’t defy your parents. It didn’t matter what they did, whether they were right or wrong, you simply had to keep your mouth shut, nod along and do what they said. 

You felt the weight of your eyelids become heavier, and in the spur of exhaustion and utter despair, you were going to allow yourself to fall asleep at your desk. 

However, your eyes quickly snapped open as you caught a glimpse of a pop-up on the screen, one you were sure you weren’t the cause of. 

“What the hell?” you mumbled to yourself, moving your mouse to close the tab. It was empty, only a black screen with no text. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it if it closed as you would’ve expected. Instead, no matter how many times you clicked on the ‘x’ on the screen, it gave you no reaction. 

Did you accidentally earn your computer a Trojan virus or something? You didn’t think you had accessed anything suspicious. You didn’t browse any porn sites—your parents had a firewall, anyway—nor did you click on any weird links. Could it be from the movie you downloaded earlier today? 

Shit, you thought. Your parents would never let you hear the end of it if they learned about it. 

After a minute or two of furious clicking, the pop-up finally closed, and you sighed audibly, basking in your temporary relief. To your dismay, however, your problems had just begun. 

Without you even touching the keyboard, random numbers, letters, and other symbols started typing themselves onto your thesis paper, causing your eyes to widen impossibly large and for curses to fall out of your lips at a rapid pace, panic quickly rising in your chest. 

You didn’t have much time to further think and assess the situation because the wall of text enlarged with each second that passed. In a feeble attempt to save your paper from further destruction, you held your finger on the delete button, yet your efforts were fruitless as the block of text only spanned out upon more pages. 

Hushed curses left your lips at a rapid pace, your worries exacerbated. You hadn’t done anything wrong, really. People download movies all the damn time. Why in the world was this happening to you, out of all people?

As if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, with your thesis paper being at risk, the pop-up from earlier returned, this time accompanied by many more similar ones, each of them covering a section of your screen until the whole screen was nothing but little tabs that overlapped each other. You instinctively reached for your mouse to try to shut them down once more, but your horror only increased as you realized your cursor wouldn’t budge. It was frozen in place, so any chance you had of deleting the abundance of pop-ups was now virtually nonexistent. 

Amidst the sheer fear and anxiety that filled your mind, you suddenly thought of turning off your PC entirely. What stopped you, however, was the fact that you hadn’t saved today’s work, and seven hundred or so words would be erased. 

“Fuck my life.” you hissed through clenched teeth, mentally berating yourself for being so miserably stupid that you failed to save your work sooner. If only you had, you could just turn your PC off, and your problem would be solved. 

Before you could go further down the rabbit hole of self-hatred over your failure to press the goddamn save button, you realized something. 

Your cursor could move again. A sliver of hope came to you. Maybe you’d finally be able to close the tabs, and while that would take forever, you could still salvage your thesis. 

But as soon as you moved your mouse to close a pop-up, your browser opened by itself, full screening and covering all the pop-ups behind it. Once again, letters started typing by themselves into your search bar without you touching the keyboard. 

You watched in complete hopelessness and confusion as the words’ cleverbot.com’ were spelled out before it seemingly hit enter and took you to the webpage. 

It was now your cursor’s turn to move by itself, slowly floating over to the blue button that read ‘understood, and agreed,’ clicking on it. You continued watching, your eyes trained on the screen as the cursor moved again, now hitting the ‘think for me’ button. 

A message typed itself out in blue. 

You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?

next chapter soon...

[cthulhushibainu]

For thou that are wondering, cthulhu does do ✨ ~le spice~ ✨ art from time to time, BUT ONLY LIGHT SHIZ, thy don't want to be band

So if I ever want to become the r34 cthulhu that thy am with even more ✨ ~le risky spice~ ✨ , thy will inform to were thy put the spices, but not right now, only laters

So here is some ~le spice~ of wally aus, enjoy (^-^)

But in seriousness tell cthulhu why that buture have the GYATT, like damn, that's the whole bakery he got, one that rivals many women that have the legendary GYATT

Butcher-littlesweets34

Stage on-@imjade381

[gaylactic-fire]

(Don't drop the @ or anything I am just doing a little test on how traceable I am :P )

[90sbee]

i changed my mind, leon gets me. living in argentina with el cara de pija de milei feels like this <3

[throwawayaccount95854864856]

A very important PSA/warning about a decently popular artist in the Welcome Home fandom, known as @/artisticgreaser0, @/artisticgreaser, and @/hornygreaser here on tumblr, or Mari. Heed the content warnings, and spread this around as much as you can! She is a harmful racist, ableist, and transphobic piece of shit!

[theabyss-system]

introduction.

(made by vincent #1 🎞️)

blog re-do.

hello, we are the abyss system, or en abîme system — although, the first is mainly used publicly, as the latter is a reference to en abîme, an ARG. i highly recommend you check it out. we are okay with either system name. :-)

we are a fictive heavy d.i.d system with multiple mental illnesses, physical disabilities and mental disabilities. for clarity’s sake, we have autism, a.d.h.d, c.p.t.s.d, n.p.d, b.p.d, o.c.d and h.e.d.s (and others we are not willing to share). when we call ourselves autistic, a narcissist, or a cripple we are not being ableist, it is an accurate descriptor of us.

collectively, we go by the names “robin” and “elliot” and he/him pronouns.

our special interests are: melliot musicals (the art of pleasing princes, adamandi and ghost story) and en abîme.

we are anti endogenic systems.

we are taken by our lovely partner system. :-)

bodily, we are a minor.

the host’s blog is @/haowenyang. he posts frequently on there — more frequently than this blog will be posted on.

please do not interact if you are: pro endogenic systems (even if you are not one), radqueer or pro-radqueer, post about ‘syscourse’, force source separation, harass introject heavy systems/see them as ‘less than’, post edblr and shblr content, are an exclusively nsft account, think ‘narc abuse’ is real, sexualise melliot characters (seriously, it’s a basic boundary from melliot themselves. do better.), are ‘proship/fiction’ or ‘darkship/fiction’.

tags

different parts in our system will add tags to our posts. this is in no way a list of our alters.

vincent #1 — he/it/they — (me) ‘vincent’s lab’

elliot — he/him — ‘elliotposting’

robin — he/him — ‘robin rambles’

rowan — she/it/he — ‘rowan rants’

crystal — she/her — ‘crystal’s chronicles’

józef — he/they — ‘-🌾’

yannick/joey — he/they — ‘yannick talks’

frank — he/it — ‘frankly being frank’ (it thinks he’s clever.)

sage — it/xe — ‘sage’s garden’

suncloud — he/xenos — ‘suncloud beams’ (also some stupid emojis.)

[wormteeth2004]

eliza 𖢥 20 𖢥 she/him 𖢥 bigender bisexual

-> i love deer insects art fashion 2000s and 2010s nostalgia internet oddities lost media religious imagery domo paul frank i spy photography

-> my fandoms are creep 1 & 2 and the creep tapes don't hug me i'm scared my little pony littlest pet shop multiple ARGs evangelion bojack horseman breaking bad gravity falls minecraft orange is the new black petscop house of leaves austin powers reanimator biosphere

-> i like to listen 2 brave little abacus daughter the drums lord huron wild nothing fall out boy rage against the machine tv girl crystal castles passion pit alex g childish gambino cocteau twins teen suicide crywank jack stauber

i rb nsft and i don't/won't tag (dm me for my nsfw sideblog NO MINORS)

sh/edblr + thinspo and tcc dni

i'm not explicitly proship or antiship but i have proship friends so keep that in mind when interacting with me

link to my meet the artist

[hdmi4kmale]

Hello again! It's the IT anon again! I didn't mean it in a sexual way, really! I just saw your username and got very excited because IT! And you sound like you've got a very cool job! Video game design sounds like it would be so cool! Do you work for a big company or do you do things on your own term? :-) Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable with my questions, I'm just a curious guy by nature!

nah ur good, sorry i had just gotten off work and was a little loopy. im not working for a company yet, im a student stufying it atm. but hopefully i get an internship in about 2 years 🤞🤞

also I try and make all of my users that I don't use for arg stuff that I make related to my main (which obviously I won't give because my stuff includes my face sometimes and I'd rather keep that separate from my nsft shit) slightly computer related lol, there's something so funnily transgender about the male and female hdmi cable slang to me

[bloodblanks]

30 frames per second [ben drowned x reader] — prologue.

You had a difficult problem. Your computer was talking to you, telling you its name was BEN, and that its soul was trapped in some video game file. You had a simple solution, though. It also mentioned that it would stop haunting you if you set it free, and all you had to do was complete said game. But your simple solution wasn’t actually so simple, because as it turns out— You were really, really bad at video games.

co-written with @blxrrii and @heartsfromvenus! ♡

author’s note: this fanfiction will not contain much, if any, dark or explicit content, but nonetheless,

please read at your own discretion.

What does defeat look like? 

The screen was, at first, a mesmerizing concoction of colours reminiscent of a bouquet of blossoming flowers. Red, greens and blues ripped at the screen, profusely tearing at the surface, shredding it into a confetti of pixels. Those seconds of colours flashing in front of your eyes both stretched out into the long threads of infinity and at the same time, passed by too fast, over in a flash, in the short time span of the blink of an eye. The screen before you gave one final, shuddering, dying glitch before it collapsed into an unrelenting darkness covering everything. 

What does defeat feel like?

Invisible strings must’ve linked your heart to the now turned-off monitor, like a puppet dangled from the tips of its master’s fingers, because at the same time the screen shut off, you felt any last glimmers of hope—even the smallest scintillas—burn out like embers, what was left of their ashes dropping down deep into the pit that was your stomach. As the desecrated dust fluttered downwards into the depths of your gut, you could feel the panic rise up, a harrowing sense of anxiety and dread breathing, sending a chain of rippling bubbles to the surface. 

What does defeat taste like?

You gathered the saliva in your mouth before swallowing, but the rancid taste of acid and bitterness still sat on your tongue, dwelling there as an unwelcome guest to the pity party you were the host of. Clenching your teeth so tightly they angrily ground up against one another, your jaw tensed and locked itself up, fists mimicking the same motion, your entire body sharing the identical sentiment of utter disbelief. 

What does defeat smell like?

You inhale, air forcing itself in, sharp and shaky at the same time, the rest of your limbs also trembling in unison as you drop the controller, its plastic shell loudly clattering against the wooden floor of your bedroom, a seemingly deafening noise. The sound snapped you out of your shell-shocked state, sending a fresh pang of fear stabbing through your mind like an icepick. Your eyes darted towards the door instinctively; all your movements stopped at once as you remained alert, trying to detect any sound. 

What does defeat sound like?

A relieved sigh escaped your lips as seconds passed, and there was no rustling, shuffling, or indication that anyone was awake except for you and the boy by your side, whose hands had clasped around yours, smaller and quivering in his hold. You finally turned your head towards him, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, splashing over your pupils and blurring your vision. You reflexively blinked to clear your sight, the newborn mixture of salt and water tumbling over the edge of your waterline, spilling down both sides of your cheeks. Removing one of his hands from yours, he raised it towards your face, his thumb brushing at the streaks of hot tears, brushing at the acknowledgement of defeat. 

next chapter ->

[squipy]

Allright so this is the most nsft or adult I'ma get on this blog so minor's uuuh idk go look at the newest arg okay whatever ANYWAYS: my adult xenogender users I need ya help!! So I've noticed something so I'm cassgender we all know this blah blah blah I'm also aegosexual ( I only like sex in theory but don't have the drive or want or whatever to do it irl) I'm also switch which leads me to my question: in said fantasys when I'm in a sub position my gender feels more feminine while in a Dom position my gender feels more masculine (this isn't saying you can't be fem and Dom or masc and sub this is just how my Brian has decided to work!) So here's what I'm asking: IS THERE A TERM FOR THIS IS THERE A XENOGENDER I CAN THROW INTO MY COLLECTION OR DO I NEED TO MAKE MY OWN???

[lady-knightengale]

I try to tag my posts as the media they're from (if any), as well as the type of post.

nsfw/nsft is tagged exactly as such (or should be. let me know if something needs tagged). so block those two tags if needed!

tag dump:

[90sbee]

argieblr

ARGIEBLR

friendly reminder de que pueden filtrar el tag #fic recs porque voy a spammear con mucha fanfiction estas semanas. a menos que si quieran leer porno de pixeles entonces... prosiga 👍 ha sido un mensaje de la secretaria de gestion de este tumblr. besitos.

[mighwnt]

13fidelis -> mighwnt

i’m fidelis, the dykiest catboygirl you’ll ever meet!!

20 yrs, bisexual genderflux polyam butch, they/he/she/pika/mew + more

i’m autistic + ocd + physically disabled. also i’m an artist and i study graphic design. i’m also a mod for @mcyt-transcribed​ and @transcriptions !!

i mostly like sugar pine 7, mcyt + streamers, args, internet/fandom history, warrior cats, our flag means death, ace attorney, lost media, among us, law and order: svu and mothership, and pokemon. i need you to understand that i havent read homestuck i just think the fanart is cool. i dont know what vriska did and im too afraid to ask.

minors please block the tag #nsft 👍

if i add an image/video description or a transcription to your post, please go ahead and add it to the original post, no need to ask!

here’s my carrd, i’d appreciate if u read it before u followed <3 tl;dr: i love mspec gays/lesbians, i love fagdykes and dykefags, i love ppl whose identity doesnt make sense. i block people all the time for stupid shit and that’s based of me. i’m a bisexual butch dyke and i won’t change how i describe myself for u. also i don’t like dream, he’s gross.

more cool things below the cut vv

mutuals, i’d appreciate if you could tag dear e/van hans/en for me, it makes me very uncomfortable. anything to do with it, or "fid dni” works for me

sideblogs:

@fidelisart​: art-only blog!! i rb all my art on there

@genderselkies​: for genders + other gay shit. cant believe the url was open

@enby-stan​: for south park fanart reblogging. keeping it to a sideblog bc it (rightly) makes some ppl uncomfy. i have nostalgia and problems though. so.

@caelum-comfort​: writing prompt storage, mainly whump/hurt/comfort stuff. rarely used.

@splashhheart: warrior cat design blog. hasnt been updated in like a year. whoops.

i tag very thoroughly. i need my organization. that said, if u need me to tag smth, send me an ask! i tag triggers as the word itself. i dont tag slurs anymore though, just block the word. uhh also i post high sometimes. tagged as weedposting. just block the tag if that makes u uncomfortable.

check out my neocities site, i work very hard on it.

now for the fun stuff:

[battlecriesandroses]

howdy! i'm jaye :]

♢ LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE from the river to the sea 🇵🇸 ♢

♢ he/him | minor | white | on kind of hiatus, will be on and off ♢

♢ pronouns page | LovelornPaperboy (my ao3) | :) (my spotify) | kingincerulean (my letterboxd) | peppersteakz (my spacehey) | partheavenpartspace (my discord: feel free to add me!!) | my fallen london is cosmicTelevison ♢

♢ spam likes/reblogs are totally fine! (encouraged too) ♢

♢ suggestive posts are tagged with nsft and artistic nudity ♢

♢ i tag (almost) every post i make/reblog. if you need something tagged, dm me and i'll totally do it for you! here are the tags i use for myself sometimes:

#jaye's originals ig: i use this when I make an original/personal post. variations include jaye's asks ig (asks people have sent me), jaye's scribbles ig (my trash art), and jaye irl ig (photos I have taken) ♢

♢ i have executive dysfunction. if i don't respond to something you send me, i promise it's not your fault ♢

♢ feel free to talk to me! i'd love some more mutuals :) ♢

fandoms & dni under cut

some stuff i'm into are: (currently into are marked with ♢)

tv shows: | ♢ good omens ♢ | supernatural | what we do in the shadows | our flag means death | mob psycho 100 | severance | joe pera talks with you | don't hug me i'm scared | star trek: the original series | bbc ghosts | community | flight of the conchords | pushing daisies | buffy the vampire slayer | bluey | neon genesis evangelion |

books: | ♢ the hunger games ♢ | the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy | scott pilgrim | warrior cats | ♢ house of leaves ♢ | ♢ space odyssey ♢ | fight club | i have no mouth and i must scream | how to train your dragon | the murderbot diaries | les misérables |

video games: | ♢ off ♢ | the stanley parable | cult of the lamb | ♢ stardew valley ♢ | bugsnax | legend of zelda | animal crossing | hollow knight | untitled goose game | hades | night in the woods | fallen london | ace attorney | five nights at freddy's | dayshift at freddy's | dialtown | undertale | deltarune | later alligator | baba is you | omori | i have no mouth and i must scream | ♢ portal (1 + 2) ♢ |

podcasts: | welcome to night vale | hello from the hallowoods | i am in eskew |

web series/args/analog horror: | ♢ petscop ♢ | don't hug me i'm scared (original) | ♢ gemini home entertainment ♢ | ♢ homestuck ♢ | bigtop burger | this house has people in it/ab surveillance solutions | unedited footage of a bear | myhouse.wad | ♢ 17776: what football will look like in the future ♢ | no through road | dog nightmare | doctor nowhere |

movies: | re-animator | ♢ 2001: a space odyssey / 2010: the year we make contact ♢ | bright young things | ♢ fight club ♢ | ♢ fargo ♢ | goncharov (i tag this with tw unreality) | night at the museum | skinamarink | the princess bride | scott pilgrim vs the world | bill and ted | cloverfield | i saw the tv glow |

+ feel free to ask! i am definetly missing some stuff up there and i'm always open to suggestions :)

i will always answer an ask (that's not like. super mean obviously)

♢ dni:

meanies

[daemosghost]

All the people on this site wanted staff to do is fix the prnbot problem, stop the cp and bestiality distribution problem, and get rid of the terfs and Nazis on this site

Instead they sold off to Verizon, then Verizon immediately sold off to the WordPress owner for a sandwich and a few quarters, tried to ban everything nsft (which didn't work), banned "female presenting nipples", sent random people to the shadow realm, and fixed absolutely nothing else aside from blogs that held illegal stuff possibly either leaving this platform or being shadow banned as well, with nothing actually being fixed, pormbots getting worse and worse overtime and staff just sitting in a room surrounded in flames doing absolutely nothing but creating months introducing useless stuff to us, making guy fierri and m&m Dr Phil ASCII in the site code to accompany their Guy fierri x m&m Dr Phil arg and literally nothing that contributes good things to this site ever