👽🛸💚

hot and sad

[maru-the-alien]

maru-the-alien established august 21, 2006 ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ ⁠⟵⁠(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)

19 years old, married, he/him/missing/no.

Blog header: all-with-angel/notnotangel

Fandoms: jjk, jjba, pokemon, etc

Writing blog: @ech0esfromtheshad0w

\⁠(⁠๑⁠╹⁠◡⁠╹⁠๑⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♬ remember: if you think men can't get pregnant, you're just not trying hard enough! ヘ⁠(⁠￣⁠ω⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠)

[luna-azzurra]

Writers have two modes and they are "i haven't written in three weeks and i am rotting from the inside and everything feels wrong and i don't know who i am anymore" and "i wrote for four hours straight and forgot to eat and it's dark outside and when did that happen and i feel like a god" and there is nothing in between. no chill. no medium setting. just famine or feast and a very confused nervous system.

[creekmotel]

[kairock]

The stupid bigot running the United States just made it to where I hate him even more. How you might ask? Simple. Being transgender apparently makes you a fucking terrorist in that stupid f**ck's head.

Don't mind the censorship thing. I don't quite know the policy on swearing that Tumblr has, but still. I also recently found this stuff out (today). I hate everything that the stupid bigotted rich pompous over painted toupee wearing politician has ever done and will ever do. I have more things I want to say about that oversaturated thing, but I don't want to get in trouble by the Tumblr people.

https://www.whitehouse.gov/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/2026-USCT-Strategy-1.pdf

That is the link for it.

I don't do political things often, but this pissed me off quite a bit.

[pawpyrus13]

GUZMA ART IVE RECENTLY COOKED UP… I LOVE THIS GUY SO MUCH SO I THOUGHT ID FINALLY POST AGAIN LMAOAOAO… I LOWK LOVE HOW THIS LOOKS TEEHEE

[maru-the-alien]

Ewww I'm back o_O anyway here's wonderwall

(⁠^⁠.⁠_⁠.⁠^⁠)⁠ﾉ

\ 🎸

[tojioffline2-deactivated2026053]

(firstly, sorry if this comes out as a big word salad, my anxiety is on its a-game today)

so, regarding the sweethearticism stuff ig. im moots with her, we've been moots for months and months. for a long time, i was fine just ignoring the content she made that i found questionable or whatever you would call it. im not a good person, far from a saint, it's whatever.

but recently, within the last few weeks, it's been a lot. at first i was thinking "ok, let's let her defend herself ig" but there comes a point where a lot of bs becomes far too much bs. like, way too much bs. she's hurt a lot of people, that is totally undeniable now, and so ive been stepping back from supporting her. she posted something a while ago about the problem with this site being the volume of neurotypical-ness, and because I didn't take a second to think that she doesn't just mean general crap and that she was actually referring to the backlash she'd been receiving, I commented something like "wait you might have a point"

OH WHAT A FOOL I WAS, DEAR TUMBLR BLOG

in a moment of panic, I blocked a good friend of mine (if you see this 🎈💙 I'm sorry. I do not expect forgiveness at any point.)

frankly, I'm trying to hype myself up to completely cut off any contact with sweethearticism. her behavior will never be ok, and I'm uncomfortable even passively supporting her. people can do what they want with their free will, talk to whoever they want, but I simply can't anymore. I'm sorry to everyone that's been hurt by Eden or anyone actively supporting Eden

thank you for reading this total word vomit

-👽

heyyyy i don’t think this reads badly at all. it sounds like you’ve been trying to process a messy situation in real time, and that’s hard. it’s okay that your feelings changed as you saw more information and reflected on it more. it just means you’re reassessing things honestly

also, panicking and reacting impulsively when you’re anxious happens to a lot of people. the fact that you feel bad about blocking your friend and actually want to apologize says a lot already

stepping back from someone whose behavior makes you uncomfortable is a completely reasonable choice. you’re not responsible for defending or carrying another person’s actions, and it’s okay to decide you don’t want to be associated with that anymore

i hope you’re not being too harsh on yourself over the “wait you might have a point” comment either. one comment made before fully understanding the context doesn’t define your character

and honestly, apologising to people who were hurt and being transparent about where you stand now is probably the best thing you can do moving forward

[mawofthemagnetar]

What do you mean “chat” is now referring to ChatGPT and not twitch chat? What? What? What the fuck? No?

When I address chat I am speaking to a presumed Greek chorus of real human people shitposting on their lunch break, not a machine that devours lakes to covert electricity into slop.

[rievalley]

𝓣AG 𝓖AMES! ( picrew & quiz )

⁝ create a fantasy version of yourself on picrew and find out what type of whimsy you are through a quiz! let us see by sharing the results. ♡

↑ are my results! it's been a while since tag games are all over my dash and i missed doing it, so here we are! ( ✦ ) © picrew by snakeinajar, quiz by moongazing.

tags ◞ @caramelluxe @besidesjustmyamour @veejiez @hotties4gojo @gojosoups @uhnosav @madamechrissy @alygator77 @sextier @hangenism @lolalied @iamsoclone @httpskrys + everyone who wants to join!

[caramelluxe]

Ty Ty Ty for adding me beloved!!

“But Lia, why does your sona have heart eyes?” Why, because I’m looking at Kento, of course

no pressure tags to my darling(s): @sammy-a-87 @realalpacorn @frothingmoth @oporotheca @lunarevia @fortunatelydistinguishedobject @maru-the-alien @lilithkleia @httpskrys @mieleism @kldgo @indiewritesxoxo honestly I’d add all my moots atp girl + anyone who wants to join!

[lunarevia]

Ty Lia bb!! This was so cute and fun 🤩

No pressure tags to my mooties: @sugusplaything @maru-the-alien @realalpacorn @lilithkleia @opalwyn @angelicwhispersofsin @mochichosoblog @luv4tati @stellarixe @smd-nw @coquettelust @sleepypulm

Anyone who wants to join 🩷

[maru-the-alien]

It me fr (worst rbf in history, utter lack of life in the eyes)

Idk who to tag but if anyone sees this and wants to join please do <3

[caramelluxe]

── ♡‧₊˚🍓⋆˚ ꒷꒦ 𝕿he sound of the saw must be known by the tree

˚₊‧꒰ა N. Kento x fem! Reader.ᐟ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚꩜｡ summary: You’re getting married. Just not to the man you envisioned you would. Now it is upto you, to either be chained by the shackles of what society expects you to be or to pick your freedom and run. | ⋆˚꩜｡ wc: 2.1K

⋆˚꩜｡ warnings/tags: angst with a happy ending, bad marriages, high society, classism, religious metaphors, yearning final boss Nanami Kento

✮⋆🎧✮.ᐟ recommended listening: Would That I, by Hozier

There was something about the arched altar of your wedding aisle that felt empty somehow, laden with the cloying scent of excessive flowers and lacquered with shimmering jewels; they held an absence so stark you couldn’t feel melancholous over this awaited union.

Your trembling gloved hand wrapped tightly around the unwrapped bouquet, a stinging relief of the thorns left by the careless florist. They provided you with the distraction and an anchor in the same sense, forcing you to look at the man at the other end of the aisle, your to-be husband.

“Everything okay?” Gentler hands steadied you, one around your waist, rubbing over your corset and the other pulling your free arm to loop around his own — Satoru was there, asking you, questioning your turmoil more vocally than you ever had the chance to wonder during the entire preparation.

The corset was tight around you, snug to onlooking gazes but suffocating to you, rendering you unable to breathe easily. Maybe it wasn’t the corset, rather, the hundred odd pairs of eyes steeled on you. Maybe it wasn’t the venue, but the person you were getting handed to. Maybe.

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, eating back the ascerbic question rising like bile up your throat. You had to ease up, calm down; you were getting married. Married to the man people said was stellar, a perfect specimen, a young maiden such as you — bred in high society and betrothed to a brute double your age, for the sole reason of his many properties. People did, after all, see marriage as a way to ascend on the societal ladder. What was love in high society, after all?

What was love to someone of the lower class, in fact?

“It’s alright.” Satoru’s lilt was comforting, a change in how he always teased you, as was his right as your older sister’s husband, but today, today, he was kinder, softer, assured. As if he was aware the tightrope of to do or to die you were walking on, the edge of harm and damage, “You don’t have to–” 

“No–no.” You pressed insistently, stubbornly; adamant to refuse to let your family’s prestige burn to ashes because you could not compromise with your traitorous heart, “I am alrig—” and the word shattered on your tongue the minute your eyes fell on Satoru’s tie.

Satoru’s eyesore tie.

You weren’t walking down the aisle just yet to your impending doom, but now your feet seemed frozen on spot, like winding roots had sprouted from your limbs, unfurling deep in the ground to mirror your grief and greed and grudge at this blasted situation.

“How—” you pushed the breaking gasp out forcefully, lest it corrode as your weeping agony. “How do you have that tie, Satoru?”

If your hands weren’t so full of the flowers that you didn’t like, you’d have him by his collar, shaking him to spill the answer, “How do you have that?” You abhorred the hitch in your voice. Why couldn’t you be strong?

“He gave it to me.” Satoru answered just as simply as you questioned angrily, “He said that he wanted to be present at your big day—” 

“I invited him here!” You hissed back. One could scarcely imagine how uncouth you looked right now, face contorted in a frown, you were sure would become an echoing scream if you did not speak your mind to your best friend.

Satoru ran his finger to your chin, soothing your anger, and bringing the grief back to the surface instead of the simmering rage, “And you think he would’ve been able to watch you get married?”

It was a legitimate question, one you had asked yourself when you invited your lover — ex-lover — to your wedding. A wedding where he was not the man you were being wed to. Perhaps had he been on the other end of the aisle, he’d be decked in the same eyesore pattern of yellow-black tie, eyes wide with love and reverence. An emotion you could not see in the man on the altar. He did not even have a hint of a smile on his face, as though he had catalogued your presence in his life like his offshore business.

You were a liability to your husband-to-be. But you had already abandoned the man who worshipped you like a deity. Why were you complaining now? You had lost the chance; there was no turning back from this. You had written your elegy, and now you were in the process of turning those words into an epitaph when you’d sign the marriage certificate.

You dug your nails into your palm as you turned to face your execution ground. What was the altar if not a grave when your life partner came with a sour expression and a promise of nothing but pain for the rest of your wretched, miserable life?

“Sweetness, there’s time—” Satoru begged, but you kept moving, walking with heavy steps alongside him, breaking and reforming staggering roots with every click of your glassy heels. Among the crowd, your eyes found your sister’s. She looked as forlorn as you, pitying at the blasphemy. But her time to contradict you from your doom had passed. You were days late and plenty of sterlings short.

“Sweetling—”

“Enough, Satoru.” Beyond the wobble of your lips, all Satoru heard was the breaking of your voice. Maybe he’d pity you as much as your sister. Both doomed to watch you light your own pyre, but then again, not every aristocratic arranged marriage is as lucky to bloom into love as your sister's and his.

If you faltered, he held you firm, standing tall but oh so aggrieved in front of the man older than him, meant to be the husband of your empty shell, a girl ages younger than him.

The floral arrangement reeked despite its freshness. Lace was but a hindrance anyway, shrouding you from the sight of the selfish man, and him from your wandering mind. People clapped as he lifted the veil. 

Perhaps, it was the familiarity of always having seen hazel eyes pinned so intensely on you that the foreignness of maddening crimsons made you flinch, but it was a whiplash nonetheless. At once, you felt everything. The stale air of the cathedral, the overpowering scents tugging at your nausea, the tight clutch of your dress, the absence of comforting weight, the absence of love. Of him.

When the priest moved to face you, you flinched, jerking back like you had been struck hard. Something almost catatonic overtook you in that moment, willing you to observe your predicament, forcing you to move.

To hell with your stepmother’s warning. If an elopement was all it took for society to shun you for the rest of your life, then it was not a society in the first place. The horror on the people’s faces was enough to make you bolt. 

And you did.

You lifted the bulk of your wedding dress, tracing a clear path to let your feet rush you out of this smothering crowd. People were calling out your name, rushed syllables butchering the consonants of the letters — the priest, your stepmom, the man at the altar… You paid none of them any heed, for the gate to the cathedral was open, and the light to freedom was on your face. The only way you could meet your lover back again — to have and to hold from this day forward.

The heel snagged the rug on the aisle, slipping from your feet to remain stuck at the woolly fabric, but you did not falter this time; you simply threw the other heel as well, choosing to run away from the blasted ceremony. The cages of high society would not hold you back anymore.

Your sister fell in step beside you seamlessly, panting from the arduous run from the front seat to beside you, but there was pride on her face, a manic grin at your rebelling — “Where is he?” you begged her. You wanted to see him, you wanted to fix it this time.

You two were far from the cathedral now, and wind gushed in your face. It didn’t matter how the snow surrounded you, your stocking-clad feet frosting in the layers of collected snow on the cobblestone. Your sister simply turned you to face the back entrance of the church, and in the battering cold snow, you saw him.

He was here. 

“Kento!”

After all, your lover was just as weak to your lure as you were to his.

Hazel eyes, dewy with tears, looked up at you, equal parts reverence and hope, and sheer surprise. But even after all that, they stayed on your face and face alone. Kento didn’t dare look at your hand to search for a ring that wasn’t there. Why would he? He never had to worry about your loyalty to him, like you never had to doubt his fealty to you.

He stood up and broke into a run, and you stumbled in the snow to him, too, just to meet in the middle.

The minute his arms wrapped around you, you grabbed his worn lapels to press your lips against his. A strangled sob left him; maybe it left you, too, but it was lost, lost in the way he loosened your corset lace to allow you space to breathe, and carded his other hand in your lace veil to keep you impossibly close to him. Among the frost and cruel winds of winter, the raining sleet your lips met in an inevitable passion, warm and desperate.

Kento kissed you like he was starving, and you kissed him back as though he was the only thing keeping you sane. Soft and slow, but each movement of his lips over yours was a repetition of the vow you had only ever heard in stolen moments. In each desperate cling, you answered with your own unsaid promise.

You two were breathless when you parted, but again, greed was something you had indulged in — both yours and his — so when Kento whispered a wrecked, “Please, darling,” you kissed him once again. He was the only breath you needed anyway.

His eyes were red-rimmed, teary in the familiar way of knowing he had sobbed his eyes out in the belief that you had married in the church. 

“I love you.” You rushed out, but were certain. You knew you did; there was no doubting that.

Kento picked you up from the ankle-deep snow just to place you tenderly on the cobblestone, “I love you too, darling, I love you.” His smile was shaky, like he couldn’t believe it, “I thought you had—”

“Never.” You promised, but then the words just rushed out of you, “I’m not— but… I’m not – I’m not here as your bride today. I’m just—”

He caught the turmoil, kneeling before you to catch your gloved hand and pressing his lips to each digit, his eyes never leaving your face, “I know.” He pulled your hand towards his hair, beckoning you to cradle his face, to ground him in your touch, “I would never ask that of you so carelessly.”

Gone was the grief from his eyes, just to be replaced with unwavering resilience, “Let me prove my worth to you, let me earn the place that would bring you pride in calling me your husband. Let me—” he kissed your palm once again, nearly helpless, “—be the disciple at the altar of my goddess. Let me, my love, let me prove my worth to you.”

You knew he didn’t have to, but it would bring nothing but satisfaction to Kento, so you smiled, kissing his forehead, “If that is what you’d like.”

“I’d love nothing more than that, darling.”

Behind him, your sister and Satoru had come up, and wordlessly, he handed your forgotten heels to Kento.

It was a quick work from there, your wet stockings came off, and Kento slid the shoes snug around your feet, “In sickness and in health.” He whispered, kissing your knee, one warm peck on each, cold skin prickling with the warmth.

“To love and to cherish,” You added, reaching for him when he got up to embrace you once again, cupping your aflame cheeks.

“Till death do us part.” Kento whispered, sealing the vows with a kiss.

🏷️ perm : @pleaseimastarv2 @realalpacorn @heliumshorns @fortunatelydistinguishedobject @maru-the-alien @oporotheca @stellarixe @lunarevia @lilithkleia @hoax-of-light @midnitebugging @cactusvolumes @getorade @antonellavanella @kldgo @claryeverlarkf @ribbonsiess

[lifesgrandparade]

I want you guys to all start making a bigger stink about Tumblr's Age Verification Horseshit.

[lifesgrandparade]

Like they tried to change Reblogs and people rightfully got up in arms, this is a LOT worse. In order to have access to any sort of thing dubbed mature, and We haveALL seen what they think is mature, Everything from a black and white photo of a black woman's arm, to posts about IUD recalls, to a nude painted by a 17th century artist, to anything involving the word Trans; you have to send your personal information to a third party site that WILL get hacked, and you will be doxxed. And they can say "Oh shit, well it wasn't us who sent your name address and gender identity to Moldovan teenagers, here's a couple extra minutes in the ball pit.

That's bad enough!!!!!!!! But the entire idea of needing permission from state authorities to access anything labeled mature by our friendly AI overlords is some fucking Boll shit. Die Gedenken Sind Frie baby. This is all a reaction to people getting uppity about their lowly lowly rights and is being propped up by the same bad actors tht have made life unlivable. Fuck that shit.

"Well it's only being rolled out in Brazil and UK" Yeah, to start. "Well they're being forced to do this by laws." YOu know it's always really funny when these tech giants (Or whatever you call owning tumblr dot com) get really antsy about laws considering they pick and choose which ones they abide by.

This is a breaking point and it's going to be very interesting to see how we proceed from here.

[teh-nos]

i get this now and it won't let me click through to any 'mature' blogs :(

[hylianengineer]

Where's the fucking. The form. The fucking form. Hang on, lemme find it.

Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your

This! Please fill out this! Select "Feedback" and fill out the form! They won't necessarily be paying attention to us complaining in posts, but they will read these forms!

[gojosbigboobies]

hi guys, me and my wife have ran into some financial issues so I've re-opened my art commissions!! you can find my prices & work on my vgen! <- I am only accepting commissions through my vgen

I'm also open to writing commissions as well, if you're interested please shoot me a dm!

I'm putting some examples of my work below as well!

[maru-the-alien]

Hey twin I found that whimsy you thought you lost when you were at your lowest, it was actually under the couch the whole time

[maru-the-alien]

think my cat stole mine and ate it :( fahhhhh

[maru-the-alien]

[maru-the-alien]

Hey twin I found that whimsy you thought you lost when you were at your lowest, it was actually under the couch the whole time

[mimuju-deactivated20260521]

⋆˚꩜｡ choso’s hands are so cold! (fluff)

the first thing you notice about choso is the cold. not the cold of his personality—he's surprisingly gentle, almost shy—but the literal, physical chill that seems to cling to his fingers and palms like a second skin. it's not his fault, he insists, but you've learned to brace yourself whenever he reaches for you.

it's become a running joke between you two, one that never fails to make him flush a deep, mortified red.

you're curled up on the couch together, some terrible reality show playing on the tv that neither of you are watching. choso is behind you, his long arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. you're trying to read a book, but his presence is distracting in the best way.

then you feel it. the familiar, icy press against your stomach.

you jolt, a half-laugh half-gasp escaping you. "choso—"

"sorry," he mumbles, but he doesn't move his hand. instead, he shoves it further under your shirt, pressing his palm flat against your warm skin. you shiver, but not from the cold this time.

"you said you were going to wear gloves today," you tease, trying to focus on your book.

"i forgot," he says, his voice low and sheepish. "and the heater's broken in my room. i've been freezing all day."

"so i'm your personal heater now?"

"yes," he says, completely serious. "you're very good at it."

you can't help but laugh, setting your book aside to cover his hand with both of yours, trying to warm him up. "you're so stupid."

"i know," he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. "but you like it."

he's not wrong.

it's not just the stomach thing, either. choso has a particular fondness for shoving his hands between your thighs when you're sitting together, especially in the winter. it's not sexual—well, not always—but it's intimate in a way that makes your chest ache. he'll be sitting next to you at the dinner table, and suddenly you'll feel those cold fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, and you'll have to bite your lip to keep from giggling.

"choso," you'll whisper, trying to sound stern. "we're eating!"

"and?” he'll say, completely unbothered, his thumb tracing idle circles on your skin. "your legs are warmer than the blanket."

"you could just use the blanket."

"but you're better."

it's always the same excuse, delivered with such earnestness that you can't even be mad. he's not trying to be suggestive or flirty—he genuinely just wants to be warm, and he's decided that you are the best source of heat in his life. it's both hilarious and incredibly sweet.

tonight is no exception. you're both in bed now, the lights off, the room lit only by the moonlight filtering through the window. choso is curled around you, his front pressed to your back, his legs tangled with yours. you're almost asleep when you feel it again—those familiar, cold fingers sliding between your thighs.

you sigh, but you don't push him away. instead, you shift slightly, giving him better access. his fingers press against the warm skin there, and he lets out a soft, contented sigh.

"so warm," he murmurs, half-asleep.

"i need to start charging you," you whisper back, though there's no heat in your voice.

"i wouldn’t mind paying," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "i’d do anything to keep you here in my arms."

you fall asleep like that, with his cold hands tucked between your thighs, his breath warm against your neck.

and you wouldn't have it any other way.

sorry so rushed, probabky last post for a while!

babygirl : @sadisticslut666

perm - @whorishminds @besidesjustmyamour @throatgoatgeto @go-go-gadget-autism @thecrazyfangirlthings@grignardsreagent @strawberryshortcakkitty @naammiii @liasacountgothacked @annicishana @my-starlights@error-racoon-404 @afreakforyautja @cupidstrace @iam-souless @sindulgent666 @chewiebee @tojisballhair@ex1acy @palanggaaa @yourlocalcatscammer @ehcilhc @gravecyte @restingoasis @satorupi @laburantesdoll@sxpernova @thethyri @lostgeto @lilytrn @sweethearticism @mikaari0 @chososballhair @nanamissilkytie @iwasabs @tojis-juicymantitys @laitifly @farylfordaryl @bl1ndv3lvet @booboobear-12 @6arcxm @sleeplessdancer @chloeee20 @deartoru @neptunezxx @ash273819 @sketchbonked @vanillakirstein @valberryboos @itimisu @livviaaaaa @kebablover @babyluvlol @audreytoru 

[transmascmarypoppins]

why is this post completely broken in every way imaginable

[cecilsrandomeverything]

Broken notes… deactivated account… removed image….

Finally, we have them all.

[spacefinch]

In addition: OP’s name is just… gone. No “[insert username]-deactivated[insert a bunch of numbers]” as is the standard for deactivated blogs.

Just the world “deactivated.” Look upon their post, ye mighty, and despair.

[chatblancofficial]

It’ll be almost impossible to find this post unless it wanders across your dash.

[huewrite]

It wandered across mine. I shall help it travel forward.

[gossamermouse]

this is not a place of honor

[softtashoney]

anyone realize it’s also an image from we heart it… oh how i yearn for we heart it and polyvore

[caramellia-and-parental-issues]

Someone bring back the active quotev era and the time people used to be all over giphly the days