#hello followers

[keifeli]

what is that

[toastermelody]

baby's first cyberbullying

[mistersillyyy]

(Waaaaa sound effect)

[charbles]

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!!!! :D!!! HAPPY FRIDAY!!!!

A LITTLE UPDATE FOR ALL OF YOU! The burn on my hand is healing NICELY!! WE ARE SO BACK GUYS!! [kinda]

Im doing a lot better than i was last night in regards to comfort. Thank all of you for understanding and boosting my lil message :]

i fully intend on drawing responses and requests when i get home!

have a LOVELY DAY EVERYONE!!

[hyperfixed-owl]

Um hi tumblr if you could sort out your tags issue pls that’d be fab, I’m missing my Helluva fix. 😭

[starrycassi]

I'm going through the major art block ever so if anyone wants me to write literally anything (short of sex and the likes, u know) about any of the fandoms I'm in just like. tell me. Damn I'll write oc shit if you want me to I'm just so out of ideas rn

Or if u like any of my series and want it to continue? Tell me. College is draining all of my braincells so I need to get back to creative work

[vaniloqu3nce]

WOAH! thats a lot of people, thats more than…six i think. Don’t quote me on that.

I know I’ve said this before but I really hope everyone who follows me mutes me immediately cause all I do is post every thought I have about wenclair no matter what time it is im so sorry

[bluseum]

flow of consciousness, i.e. Emily Berry

never just die, because you move through the air better than anyone, and i still can't figure out what i need from you, if anything. i feel like i ruined your peace - clumsy and large and overencumbered and thrashing without care in the space you surround yourself with. i thrash because i feel trapped - my head is pulled and pushed into warm water - nothing here is as simple as push and pull, and i feel like a cliché, marring your pure simplicity with unnecessary speech, ever jarred by the silence that it’s difficult to find comfortable. trapped because you knowingly or unknowingly detest what i love to say - detest the noises in my mind i’d like to put into text - it makes me sick and i hate you - nobody does - if you only knew who didn’t. i think dashes are overimplimented. it works as a crime - you are disgusted by the action and yet i beg the intention is different. i swear the feelings are purer and far more complex - now, we descend into YA novels, and Creep by Radiohead. let the constant mind music resonate - you were never watching, but may have been listening - as your cohort of atoms lay lavishly spread, shining, and if better things come i can hope whatever comes of me can intertwine with them - relaxed, complacent, drifting with no push or pull. i try my hardest not to admire you. i don’t know if you believe it. i have spread myself far away from you, to many a person or some alienated subject that disgusts or offends you - i’m left wondering if this is what the intense emotion of an artist feels like - this is, after all, tragic. we have our moments, however, it has to be said. you would hate this. who knows if you dislike the effort - a whole life feels heavy, aches the mind, that’s certainly how it feels. this water must be full of chlorine. i never believe a word you say, or write, nor do i believe my own ego. i have made myself a fiction, a stage presence, a character that cuts a cage between me and my logical thoughts. never have i been met with such a numbing, jarring, stalling problem - the mind crashes - i relent to say ‘emotion’ - emotion is used to explain everything - but alas, the humanities student within me calls for it. i don’t, after all, fully believe in anything more. i have never fully believed in anything - my conviction has always been weak - unhelpful, as i fear i catch your disdainful glances when i agree with you on occasion. i don’t know what you know (don’t take that phrase at face value) and how you choose to put it across. there is always someone to do something more. i rush, between everything, i always occupy myself, with people, drama, ruining things to avoid you, thanks to my own guilt at everything i speak. i have come out wrong - that much is clear. i especially regret this heaviness - the text with which i pile on you, but the moment i feel bad for you, i instinctively stop myself - too much sympathy is belittling - and i’ve spent the longest time gradually changing things but nothing seems to change. maybe it went too wrong too early - the great human tragedy. this, in itself, is too much. but it might not be - although, in full honesty, it probably is. (although i’m still unsure - my conviction wavers). not one person will read every word - not even i have read this back to myself, and i never will, neither will you, and we will go on unaffected in our undoubtable splendour. people are thinking about both of us (not at the same time, let’s not be creepy) and that provides me with a sense of guilt, oddly. i once wrote an essay on control of the consciousness - i feel like the patriarch i describe - i scorn my own rancid ‘identity’ - i have sold myself incorrectly and that is difficult to rectify. workers that lie on their CVs only prove their lies to be lies by working poorly, ruining a system that they are then removed from. yet, sometimes analogies are irrelevant (see the twitter community note - ‘that’s a dog’). i have missed out key words from this that prove points. i’d go on, but i’m about to hit the paragraph limit. like i said, heavy. no dash to lessen the impact.

[cadaver-sniffing-dog]

get to know me ^-^

[made-nondescript]

if you're doing this may I recommend throwing a few wayward thoughts in tags of the art you're swishing around because I promise the artist will be thrilled

there is simply no greater joy than going nuts over someones art. staring at it and picking out the details. putting it in my mouth and swishing it around and picking out the undertones. awah. i love you artists i love you forever

[ashley7383]

Hope everyone's having a great 2025!

[officialspec]

me thrun

[michaelwhowalksatnight]

sometimes ppl follow me on this blog and it scares me bc this is my super secret nobody knows who i am blog where i can be as cringe and free as i want

[dannybobany]

Like three people have followed me since I entered a creation slump and they don’t even know about my fnaf au that this account is actually mainly about- they don’t even know

Hello new additions to my tiny little collection of followers, abandon all hope ye who enter here <3 anyway I will be drawing Jeremy soon or maybe The thing not to be named but generally referred to by “it” I haven’t drawn it in awhile and I need to make a post about it for the two people who care about this au !!

[weaselishmcdiesel]

the lovers ever

[millyphobic]

˙ . ꒷ 🍪 . 𖦹˙— LIL LOVE BUG

✮ getting a little treat from your girlfriend the morning after

fem!reader x girlfriend!sevika ‪‪❤︎‬ morning after sex ❤︎ reader is booty naked ❤︎ surprisly fluffy but a little suggestive towards the end ❤︎ not proofread (つ.と) | MDNI

“Wake up.”

No response. Sevika rolls her eyes as you simply keep snoring, wondering how the hell you’re still knocked out. She wasn’t that rough…right? Besides, you’re on your belly, one foot dangling off the edge of the mattress, and the blanket tangled around your waist. How the actual hell has your body not forced itself awake from the sheer amount of discomfort this sleeping position seems like? One wrong move and she doesn’t doubt you’d suffocate yourself in the pillows. Seriously, you have no self-preservation whatsoever. The lightbulb is on but no one is home.

At least she’s getting a nice view of your thighs and ass. Respectfully. Every bite mark, every hickey brings her a sense of giddiness. A little sense of possessive pride. That’s her girl lying in her bed and tangled up in her sheets and sporting love bites she made.

“Come on. Wake up, girly. I got you something.” Setting down her gift to you on your nightstand, she gently grasps your shoulder and flips you over, cold metallic fingers of her prosthetic ghosting over the span of your chest and throat until she’s very gently cupping your face. Thankfully you finally rouse from your sleep, an adorably miffed expression taking over you. Between your squinting eyes and wrinkled nose, you looked like a very upset bunny.

“Hand. It’s cold.”

“It’s metal. Of course it’s cold.”

“Oh my god, I know that! Let go!”

A lot of scoffs and eye rolls ensue but Sevika lets your face go, opting to plop down next your bare self. “Nice tits, by the way,” she muses. And because she’s such a good girlfriend she takes a fat squeeze of your tit with her real hand, hot and calloused palm and all.

And clearly you like that, snorting out a laugh as you stretch out your sore body. “Only for you, babes. Also-” you sit up with a groan, shifty hands snatching a little pastry bag on your nightstand. “You brought me goodies. Love you!”

She can’t help but smile, a real soft smile that she’d never give to another person, as you open up the bag. A little treat for being such a sweet girl and taking what she gives you every night.

“This is so cute! Aww, Vika. I love you so much, really!” You hold out a cookie in your palm, a huge grin on your face as you marvel at the treat. With red-and-pink frosting and fondant eyes, it looked like some sort of critter.

“The cookie’s called ‘Lil Love Bug’. Seems appropriate for my baby here.” You can tell she’s proud of herself here and it’s adorable, blowing her a quick kiss before taking a bite of your cupcake.

“Yum, it’s chocolate. And the frosting is good too. Want some?”

“Mhm. Get over here.” And you’re laughing again as she shamelessly leaned in for a kiss, licking at your frosting-covered lips. It’s not long until you’re laying down again and pulling Sevika with you, one hand curled around her neck while the other is carefully holding your treat from harm. “Either hurry up and eat that thing or put it down.”

“I have to enjoy this,” you counter, but do as she says by popping it in your mouth. Between chews you hum out, “well, you can always buy me another.”

“That I can,” she agrees. “You look real cute from here.” There’s a gentle lull in her voice as she swipes her thumb over your cheek, wiping away any stray crumbs.

Look at you. Making her all soft. Domestic. It should scare her how easily you’ve sanded down her rough edges, how you’ve easily soothed her into feather-light touches and honeyed whispers of devotion. But she doesn’t mind. As you lay bare before her and playfully skim your hands over your body in temptation, she doesn’t mind one bit being soft for you.