1997 | He/They | Sometimes a guy that draws, always a guy that loves horror and games. And I love exploring/healing myself with the things I like so please respect my tastes.
I post mostly/and talk about OCs and OCxCanon // Bugs + Arachnids // World Builds // Horror // Games and Movies alike. Really into Deltarune rn!
I post SFW and NSFW posts here. But I tag everything accordingly. 18+ Minors DNF ( art tag is #my art or #bones doodles )
CARRD For the Curious (It's about me!)
straw page if you wanna ask me deltarune stuff
no pedo/incest/zoo, boundaries respected please and thank you
Sometimes, I like to call myself a "Bus". Because throughout life, I allow people onto it, and I drive them around. But as I drive them around they are experiencing me, and I am experiencing them.
We share stories and experiences with one another over our travels. However long they may be.
Sometimes passengers stay a long time, but a lot of them get off too. I cant decide if they do or not.
But, I have had life long customers on my bus. I have had long time passengers that eventually found their stop, and got off. But even so, I can share their stories they told me from the backseat. In their memory. (To be remembered is to be loved.)
Throughout life, people will get on and off of your bus. How you treat their coming and going is entirely down to you. But know that this is just how we meet people in a life time.
I think I am officially Fandom Old. I am so worn out from the arguments on who's the top or the bottom (who cares), what is allowed to be written (anything you want, bejeebus), what is Problematic (I know, just tag it), what other people Should Do (they Should live their lives free of judgment). There isn't a Right Way to do things. Tag your stuff appropriately, don't read stuff you don't want to read, and leave other people (me) alone.
There is nothing quite like the freedom of having gone through all of the Discourse and come out the other side into the promised land of Not Giving A Fuck.
And while this is happening while people are buried under rubble, while children freeze in tents, while entire families vanish overnight powerful men sit comfortably and present plans for a “New Gaza.”
Clean slides. Perfect buildings. Investment numbers. A future imagined without the people who are currently being erased.
They talk about peace while bombs are still falling. They talk about rebuilding while destruction is ongoing. They draw maps over land that is soaked with blood and call it hope.
The ceasefire is a lie.
What’s happening is ethnic cleansing, repackaged with the language of development and diplomacy. You cannot build a “new” city by destroying the people who belong to it. You cannot promise a future while actively killing the present.
This isn’t peace. It’s violence with better branding.
Today, three journalists were killed in a single airstrike.
Not soldiers. Not fighters. Journalists. People who believed that if they kept documenting, if they kept filming, if they kept writing, the world would eventually care.
In Gaza, telling the truth has become one of the most dangerous things you can do. Holding a camera is treated like holding a weapon. Every photo risks your life. Every report could be your last.
They had names. Families. People waiting for them to come home. They were not numbers, and they were not mistakes. They were silenced because truth is inconvenient, because images expose what statements try to hide.
When journalists are killed, it’s not just lives that are lost it’s evidence. It’s memory. It’s the last barrier between reality and denial.
…
Donations for GAZA
This donation campaign is for ANAS family. Not for strangers, not for a cause I’m distant from but for the people who raised me, the people I love, the people I’m terrified of losing.
They are in Gaza, trying to survive something no human being should ever have to endure. Constant bombardment, displacement, hunger, fear, and the feeling that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Every day is about staying alive one more night.
If you choose to help, you are not donating to an abstract crisis. You are helping real people with names, memories, and lives that matter to me more than anything.
🔗 This is a verified Chuffed campaign to support family:
Campaign Update
If you can’t donate, please reblog. Visibility is sometimes the only protection we have left.❤️
Some accounts are tagged to help people see this campaign. It’s not spam. If you don’t want to participate, simply scroll.
Sorry you've probably answered this before but how did you come up with bonefries? I always smile when I see the name because bone... fries... mmm... clever you are...
shit im sorry i totally forgot to respond to this
originally i wanted to make my name "bonefryer" because i love junk food and "bones" became a name based off of an old store front i had
but bonefryer was taken, alas. so i settled for bonefries. the end result of a bone fryer
