AAAAA CANT DRAW

Ahhahaha *throws horrible art at you and runs*

I have an oral fixation:P

Also I am currently making custom pants

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

Finally finished Tea in the dress 😩😩

ʚ✩ɞ Full credit to bases used ʚ✩ɞ

Also

Speed paint >:]

new reblog game actually put in the tags what the blog you reblogged from tastes like

Answer in tags<3

@arunoy @nooneimportant2467 @romnt-fan2023 @kk-cats

☆Feel free to add yourself ☆

starting a game because I'm bored >.<

say 4 things about yourself, 3 of them being true and one being the lie, then hide the answer under cut. I'll start for a visual example

-> @iceangelsimon @milligramspoison @basment-bunni @svitomustdie or anyone, really-

answer:

the lie is in the 3rd item, i was never able to go to an art school, so I'm self taught basically. But i still wanna go to an art school just to experience how it is, it must be kinda cool

I remember when I was really young I was in gymnastics for a time and I only ever wanted to do the thing where you jumped in the foam pits. Except I didn't get out. And I was too short to actually reach anything else so the teachers there just kinda... let me

So sorry for absolutely dying chat but here's some patches I've made

Today's artings for Inktober, the prompt being discover.

Still struggling with goretober haha

43v01d

...I mean part of it's there

@nooneimportant2467 @kickbutts-singsongs

ok gimmickverse let's all do this

I would be oho-h-

@maryland-officially @the-real-catholic-church @north-dakota-unofficial @non-tyrannical-usa @thee0ne-whos-trying and anyone else!

I'll just be chilling and laughing about something then suddenly my voice is the grossest thing I've ever heard, my chest is too big, my words are too mixed. The walls are too tight and air isn't right and I'm doing... nothing to stop it. I sit and I stare and I am for once silent. The people around me do not question, as silence from such a noisy creature is rare and peaceful. Yet does the silence kill the lamb, blood trickles down your arm as a stream trickles water, and nothing makes sense in the end. You read this for what? You breathe for what? You continue this scrappy life of passing through the world, there but not. Aware but not. Conscious but not. Hopeful but not. You are you. I am me. Or must I be? Are we to be? Are you me? Am I you? Who is to say? Who is to blame? What is to blame? You spiral farther and farther and deeper and lower and the endless seam cracks and breaks and you're confused but you don't dare call out, not to the void. Not to such a precious thing. Cherished pain and fragmented memories and pointless words that scream nothing with wishes to speak of something, anything, so much more than this mess.

Because art is an expression, and nothing is real. If everything is made up, how are we to feel?

They say to count your days and keep your blessings close

Or was it the other way, where nothing is to cope?

Because you read this and wonder if there's even a point, a message

So, I'll be straight here- I think I want to end this