WIP Whenever
Happy Saturdaaaayyy it's WIP time. Thank you @ejunkiet for the tag (✿◡‿◡)
I have FINALLY finished a completed draft of that silly fighting thing so now I'm running through it for revisions that it definitely needs, so in the meantime the thing I've been chipping away at for a while.
Doing a character sheet of sorts for my Darlin and trying to figure out potential tattoos. Not entirely sold so far? But maybe? idk, it's tough to think of tattoos apparently v_v
I've been doing small adjustments overall and since my first post of them I've added freckles and a teensy bit of sectoral heterochromia. Because I can (〜 ̄▽ ̄)〜
I.... don't feel like tagging anyone specific right now o3o;;; But if you've been tagged or want to be tagged, feel free to tag me for it I want to see things and read things o3o
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my power was out all day yesterday so obviously my brain decided the best course of action was to do a proper take on the vtuber design (as opposed to just that one doodle i did)
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Jesse what the fuck are you talking about ?
yo mr white it's a free web cartoon you can go to homestarrunner.com/main and have fun online bitch. if you want to learn about strong bad you can go to characters or the series of toons where he answers real emails (bitch)
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Just hate-scrolled hella so uhhhhh let me do smthn really funny 😊
TERFS die challenge trans people be realer than you ever were. Dare I even go out on a limb and say that I would kill every TERF I see by slingshotting stones at them. You're just jealous that trans women are exponentially better women than you could ever be 🖕.
Now look at my funny cat.
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i wish i talked to more rad + rad leaning ladies irl and online i am just too nervous to reach out to people and develop friendships. plus i feel like i dont have a lot in common with people or i am just too weird and not interesting Or whatever. i only talk to 3 people consistently. 2 best friends who are overly religious (1 catholic 1 islamic) so i cant really talk about any anti religion stuff with them, then the catholic is also a super gendie genderfluid pansexual so i literallg cant talk about anyrhing with her abt LITERALLY ANY OF MY ACTUAL THOUGHTS but weve been besties since elementary school so :(. then the other bestie agrees on some stuff but only in secret But also it doesnt really mean anyrhing when she turns around is like Omggggg i love men even if (insert every bad thing here) they deserve love.... like Ok whatever. then the last person. 1 male who agrees with me on a lot of my views that i have opened up about to him But also he is male so it means literally nothing. SAD !
i miss playing videogames like apex or fortnite Or literally anything with someone and having a good time or just talking about dark souls etc etc. Um anyways whats up gyns 😀 Ramblimg in the tags time Tumblr is my journal
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Especially if you’re someone like me who has a n unhealthy relationship with their body I think cooking can be such a powerful act of self love,,,taking the time to put together ingredients to make a dish you love and will enjoy. Spending the time with yourself for yourself . When food is often used a s a way to show love showing that same appreciation for yourself in such an important act of grounding
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Bones and all. She slurped, chewed, crunched, and tore with jagged fingernails, breath uneven, blood smeared ear to ear. I love you, she cried, over and over. I love you, I love you, I love you. I know, she replied, offering up her entire arm, smiling softly as she let her consume her, and truly take, and take, and take.
When her teeth finally hit bone, she glared at her, eyes full of clarity, and she was ashamed. The meal lay placid, shivering, sweaty, glaze-eyed. Shame, an ancient and powerful feeling. How fitting, that the history of eating that which we shouldn’t is as long as the history of recoiling, shrinking, and shriveling up on oneself.
What’s the matter? Don’t I taste amazing? Do you not wish to keep eating?
You’re sick. You’re sick, sick, sick. And she grabbed her coat. Where do you think you’re going? You’ve still got blood on your face. There was. And blood on the carpet. And on the drapes. And on the bed. God the bed.
“Adah,” she murmured. “Come here.” And because she could not deny her, deny herself, deny her hunger, she came. And would keep coming back. She stumbled, hair matted, makeup smudged, tearstreaked. She shambled, blood and meat sloshing in her belly. She fell, mightily, head first into the still mauled, still bleeding, still smiling Monique’s lap.
“What’s wrong with me?” whimpered the glutton, blood caked fingernails fisting into the meal's white dress.
“You love,” whispered Monique, stroking the lover’s hair over and over, finger detangling, taking her time with knots as coiled tight as their owner’s shame. “You are a lover.”
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
Adah tore herself away from the meat of her meal’s thighs. She turned again and grabbed her coat.
“Goodbye, Monique.”
“Goodbye, Lover.”
Lover exits stage left.
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