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no thoughts head empty only beaster bunny

original:

turtleducks are the blessing to this world

Op where’s the flipping essay??!?!?!??! We need this!!!

high school musical 2 is a thinly veiled metaphor for white privilege. employment and education opportunities are handed to troy, a white boy, on a silver platter despite his own protests that “i don’t think i’m qualified”, solely because of a rich white girl’s interest in him. his friends, people of colour, are overlooked for similar opportunities despite having the same skill set as troy himself. when troy and gabriella break the country club staff rules, it is gabriella, a filipino girl, who is punished for the breaches while troy receives nothing but a verbal scolding every time. in this essay i will-

so how much do i need to pay for this? this is an emergency

[ 𝟗:𝟒𝟐 𝐀𝐌 ] — 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 (𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘)

arms tighten their hold on you as mikey groans, burying his head into your chest. sighing, you glance at the clock, trying your best to wriggle out of his grip as he falls into slumber once more, but his arms lock you in place again.

mornings with mikey always tend to be unproductive, he’s not one to give in once he decides on something—and most mornings, he decides you’ll stay in bed with him for as long as his hearts content.

“mikey,” you sigh, prodding at his shoulder. he pretends not to hear you—the little shit, you think. you can feel the tiny smile on his lips against your chest. “mikey, let go.”

“no,” he mumbles. “don’t wanna.” it’s an everlasting effort to try not to roll your eyes at your boyfriend, he makes the task harder than most. pinching his arm, you glare at him when he jolts a little, staring at you in shock.

“mikey i’ve got things to do—mmph,” and you’re cut off by him plopping himself on top of you, caging your body with his arms as his face digs deeper into the fabric of your shirt. his body lays in between your legs, and though you’re annoyed, there’s something so angelic about him like this.

“stay,” he murmurs. and it’s all it takes.

with a sigh, you relax, shaking your head amused at the control he has over you. a few pouts, a soft plead, and mikey’s got you wrapped around his finger, bent to his every wish. and you would be mad, but he’s the same way, everything on pause for you should you say the word.

you rub over the bare skin of his back, feeling the rippling muscles under your palm. letting out a content sigh, he nuzzles deeper into you, pressing a tiny kiss to your other hand when it lays on his cheek.

“we really should get up,” you whisper.

“i missed you at night,” he mumbles. “wanna spend more time with you.”

“mikey, we spent the whole night together, what are you talking about?” pouting, he gently guides your hand to his hair, leaning into your touch. you smile at his ploy to get you to stroke through the strands, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as you do.

“didn’t even talk to me,” he grumbles. “just slept the whole time.” his voice is accusatory, as if you’ve betrayed him for doing the norm and falling asleep. he pouts bitterly at the memory of being cut off during his rambling by your soft snore.

“oh,” you roll your eyes. “sorry, i’ll try not to do that next time.”

“i’ll wake you up if you fall asleep while i’m talking tonight. swear i’ll do it,” he warns. you snort, making him crack a smile, humming when you gently scratch at his scalp with your nails.

and it’s serene, mornings like this, just the two of you in here. because out there, out there he’s someone else, someone you know you should run away from, someone who’s done things that would make your head spin if you knew the depths of them. but you can’t seem to let him go, not when you see him like this, heart entrusted in your hands. he’s everything you shouldn’t want, but it makes him that much more exhilarating.

i love you.

it’s all your heart screams when he’s around, and his screams it right back. the deafening silence of his absence is scarier than his crimes.

“kay, drama queen. you’re bad for my sleep schedule,” you scowl. his eyes close, the scent of your perfume and body wash wafting through his nose as you gather his hair into your hands. “where are your hair ties?” wordlessly, he holds up an arm, two hair ties on his wrist. grabbing them, you part his hair down the middle.

“what’re you doing?”

“your hair,” you say simply. and in a few moments, his hair is tied into two neat pigtails, making you giggle at the sight. “some crime lord,” you snort. “you look like you’re ready for the first day of elementary school.”

“hey,” he protests. “i was badass in elementary school. took out the older kids like they were nothing.”

“then you’d be too cool for me,” you sigh dramatically, making him smirk. and you should be doing errands right now, but mikey’s body on top of yours feels so right—even if he is rather heavy.

“nah,” he grins, peering up at you. “i bet you peaked in elementary school, loser,” he teases. and the soft chuckles that ring through the room encompass the both of you like a hug.

i love you.

you both whisper the message wordlessly through the sweet kiss you share. and you think a few more moments in bed with him couldn’t hurt, not when he eyes glint like that, bright and full of life.

HOLD UP

HOLD up

U can't just drop THUS and expect me NOT TO TAKE INTEREST 😱

I are REFUSE to start writing another story with these two. Here take this instead

Bored. Who wants to play a game? Pick one

Choice A) 🌊

Choice B) 🌹

So........ Making an au ......... Designing a human Macaque............... And good bye

DifficultAsItSoundssdnuoStIsAtluciffID

It has now been 9 hours since I told myself to put my phone down and go to bed.

I'm starting to feel about artistic depictions of trans scars the same way I feel about artistic depictions of blindness: they suck.

At first the art of all the jagged lined scars I saw for trans characters seemed neat. But then I started to remember that I have those scars and they don't look like that. At all. And it's kinda shitty to draw all these trans men and nbs in such a way that they look like someone took an axe to their chests. Mastectomy/top surgery scars don't look like that at all! Even when you have a slash and dash quick surgery like I did, the results are much nicer and most trans guys you can't even tell.

This is like drawing people with white/pale, unfocused eyes as a shorthand for blindness. It's a shitty stereotype and I think in the long run it causes more harm than good. Just like with real trans folks you may have to just say out loud that your guy is trans instead of giving him a design that's kinda shitty to the bros out there who went through some shit to look really good.

my family and I are out having breakfast and the instant All Star started playing over the diner speakers out of nowhere my brother and I locked eyes in a shared moment of... I don't know. Primal fear?

turns out i need new friends, my current ones are kinda shitty.

kicking me from everything because i said i agreed with them.

Okay, I know I don't really post stuff of my own but... today I was reading some flash/arrow ao3's and there he was, Joe -freaking- West. I just can't keep this in, I really don't like him, and like, I feel like he's such a controversial character in flash, he was only ever okay with Barry's and everyone else's decisions as long as the decisions in question agreed with his view and his morals but always making it look like he wasn't thinking about what he wanted... and like, I really get it but also, ollie wasn't a fuking psycho... I also don't really like the Barry/Iris relationship, but whatever, I guess I'm not even making sense... just wanted to vent (please don't kill me)

I bet Jar Jar is fucking hung like a whale. God he can raw me anyday.

I spent like two? Three? Entire weeks with this sitting in my askbox and I just. I got nothing. What could I possibly answer? I tried all the “nope” gifs in this god forsaken website, I tried to draw what my face looks like every time I read this, I tried to find fanart of jar jar with his wang out and the universe was kind enough to me so that I couldn’t find any. I got nothing. Nada. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. What am I gonna say? What in god’s name am I gonna say to that?!

You see, I wanna fuck general grievous. I do. I want him use all his four arms to simultaneously pull both my arms back and touch my tits as he fucks me with his mecha-schlong. I do. I wanna fuck darth Maul, pre-legs cut off or post metal legs+metal dick enhancement. I wanna lick those horns. Okay? I wanna fuck darth vader. Boy, oh, boy, I do. I wanna hear that hard breathing and wrap my legs over that dramatic cape while he force-chokes me and we do the do. Am I a weird robot-fucker? You bet your ass I am! Am I a tad too much on the horny side? Probably. Did I extrapolate my right to be horny on main? Fucking sue me. But this. THIS.

How do you want me to face my family and all the three (3) friends I have irl? How do you want me to walk into an elevator with a bunch of strangers and when an old lady says “the weather has been a little hot lately, isn’t it weird?” just to do small talk like every fucking old people I don’t know do, how do you expect me not to answer her with “y’know what’s weirder, someone at this very moment is thinking about Jar Jar Binks going balls-deep in them and I cannot talk about this to anyone and the knowledge of this? it’s eating me alive. ALIVE, ma’am, and I don’t mean this as some sick vore reference. Someone’s dreaming of those popped-up eyes, of that weird high-pitched voice screaming MEESA COMING while they’re filled up by Jar Jar Bink’s thick seed, and I’m just standing here while this very notion rots me to the core, taking all life away from me. It’s a nightmare. My entire life, a nightmare, because of an anon message from a horny jar jar fucker on tumblr. This is my floor now, ma’am, have a good day”

I leave the elevator. I probably have an appointment, but I can’t remember where, or what for. I sit down on the floor by the elevator doors. I sob for a full minute. I take the elevator back downstairs, I walk home, I collapse in bed and rub one out thinking of darth vader. I feel better.

Five minutes later, I think about this ask again, and my whole world collapses again. It’s only Tuesday. I sigh heavily and sit down to write this reply.-

Edit: a lot of this is exaggeration. Some of it is true. You get to pick what exactly.

I've so far been having an art block----- I heard just doodling random/new characters help? So i've kinda done that? I changed the name and or completely changed the looks of a few really outdated side characters including my two love birds Rhae and Cheryl. Buuut ahhh- besides the "Go 'Reese' Go" metta squad animatic take on Steam powered Giraffe's "go spine go", I really don't have anything productive since I forgot the camera for Sakura con TTwTT.