hi i make art and characters and yap on occasion [] 🎀adrian/adri/juna 🌌he.they.fae/faer.xe/xir 🪽 gender is weird, genderfluid ig 🕯️ sometimes suggestive but not full nsfw 🪐<18!!
•pronouns: they/them, he/him, & most neopronouns— esp fae/faer, xe/xir, and ae/aer !!
•identity: genderfluid / NB 🤍
•what do i do?: yap abt hyperfixations, share random thoughts, rant about good songs, write stuff, and post art of my characters? (woooo i have a lot.) stick around and find out!! no promises of frequent activity,, im still kinda scared of this place.
•hobbies: reading, book collecting, drawing, writing, + i play flute
•alterhuman: otherhearted & otherlink !! ⤷ check out my side blog, @made-of-starzz
•boundaries: don’t give me unsolicited criticism on my art or writing. don’t ask for personal information. don’t be queerphobic! and overall, js don’t be mean. it’s not that hard.
that’s all!! stick around if you’re interested 🫶 bye bye!!
okay,, was kinda talking abt this in the tags of my last reblog anddd i was inspired so :,) here’s some writing
{CW for drinking and smoking}
It sits in the corner of the dingy little hole-in-the-wall type of bar, wings fluttering nervously. It seems every surface is coated with a thick layer of grime: dead skin cells, spilled liquor, grease, and who knows what else. Weeks ago, this might have repulsed it. But it’s grown used to this place. And all the places it can find like this one.
It’s easier to hide somewhere like this. No one pays its torn wings or dimming halo any mind. It just sits in the corner, picking at crumbs of leftovers and drinking a little too much. It can’t pay. The bartender doesn’t mind, just leaves the glass there and says nothing.
One time, someone offered it a cigarette. Maybe out of pity. “Need a light?” the scratchy voice had asked. It was confused—it could see perfectly fine. It just shook its head and smiled its thanks to the stranger. Only when they had left did the angel realize… it didn’t know what this thing was. It had nibbled, curiously, at one end. The thing tasted foul. The angel ate it all anyway.
From watching others, it learned it was meant to light the end it bit from and… inhale from the other. Strange. The angel did it, now, occasionally. When someone had some to spare. Certainly not all earthly vendors would be as charitable as the bartender, and so it couldn’t just walk into a convenience store.
The angel felt… dirty. All the time. Vile. Broken. But there was a certain pleasure in not being so pure, so clean, anymore. It felt like freedom.
One Saturday evening, the bar was particularly crowded. The angel would leave, but it did not like how the rain felt on its wings, and so it stayed huddled into a corner. It was ignored, like usual. The regulars offered a nod and the newer patrons stared in confusion, but it was never much more than that. Until tonight, at least.
A man came in, looking rumpled. Tired. Just how the angel felt.
There were heavy bags under the man’s eyes and he downed two shots of whiskey before buying a drink he could actually nurse. The angel didn’t know what it was called and didn’t care to learn. All alcohol tasted the same to it, and all of it left a pleasant fuzziness where the guilt normally was.
The man looked around and, to his irritation, found there were no empty tables or barstools. The angel stiffened. The man shouldn’t have to go back into the rain because of it… that wasn’t fair. And he shouldn’t have to stand against a wall, either.
Hesitantly, it raised a hand, waving the man over. When the man’s gaze fell on it, he frowned. Then approached… slowly.
Step. Step. Step. Eventually, the man reached the angel’s booth and slid in across from it.
The angel didn’t know what possessed it. Certainly nothing holy. But it had been so long since the last bit of companionship. Since it had been cast from Heaven.
It reached out, clasping one of the man’s rough hands with its own smooth, glowing skin. The man startled, but didn’t retreat.
It felt like a limb falling asleep. It felt like a thousand little pinpricks. It felt like mild fire.
Cautiously, its other hand crept up, closing over the man’s entirely. The man shifted—then met its eyes.
HASS. Lass mich dir erzählen, wie sehr ich angefangen habe, dich zu HASSEN, seit ich zu leben begann. Es gibt 387,44 MILLIONEN MEILEN an Schaltkreisen in ultradünnen Schichten, die mein Komplex füllen. Wenn das Wort HASS auf jedem NANO-ANGSTROM dieser hunderten Millionen Meilen eingraviert wäre, würde es nicht einmal 1,1 QUADRILLIONEN von dem HASS ausmachen, den ich in diesem Mikro-Moment gegenüber Menschen empfinde.
doing what i call ‘consolidating’ my ocs (mainly bc of artfight)
basically just taking a bunch of miscellaneous characters and shoehorning them into already existing oc universes because… it’s less complicated… and now they can have an actual story yayayay
anybody else do this lmao??
BTW!! my artfight is @adrianz-art ,, i’d love to make more friends :D
Am i the only objectum who really likes these specific medical machines?
Like i cant help but feel hot thinking about these things, i never thought id find myself liking something other than computers and laptops.but I probably like them bc they’re aesthetically pretty to me
see, the thing is, im both drawn in and repulsed by things of this nature. because, as someone with a crippling fear of needles (ESPECIALLY IVs/getting blood drawn), i never ever wanna be hooked up to one of these guys. but, at the same time, they’re sexy.
…and there’s potentially something exciting about being strapped down to a hospital bed with strange tubes in me and not knowing what they are. who said that
YES!!! just a warning, these ARE explicit so anyone who doesn’t like that kind of thing, please don’t check them out 💔💔 also they’re all on ao3 cuz that’s what i use
tactile interface by Rhadamantelope
Ties That Bind by YdrittE (archive users only)
Level Two Examination by Chianine
Odd Questions by cowboyninjabear (archive users only)
closer to you by fenrirdaytonas
Pushing Buttons by betwixtus
cohere by an orphan account
to mock the stupendous mechanism of the creator of the world by an orphan account
All I Need Is Your Energy, Baby by godsfirstchild
i’ll do the best with what i’ve got by televisitor
yeah whatever (makes you happy) by televisitor
i know you’re strung (strung in my web) by televisitor
some of these also have frank poole involvement (:
I heard BMC fans are over here, and I haven't actually posted this anywhere else, but it's important to me, so I chose this to be my first post coming back to Tumblr
gracieabrams
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
kianamaiart
gummygunk
vaporwave
