Hi there! I’m Meev, and I’m only now getting myself back into tumblr after years of having no motivation to do anything but lurk and reblog. Everything is a big work in progress right now, so please bear with me!
This blog is 18+ (check my about for content warnings!). This is for my own comfort above all else; and I appreciate the understanding.
There really aren’t any rules aside from: don’t be a bigot! This blog is a safe space for all queer and POC people, which includes Transgender and Intersex folks! Do NOT feed any of my art into AI for ANY reason.
(Content Warning: Major themes of dehumanization + abusive parenting, but nothing described in detail)
Spotlight
She was no more than a grub when they offered her to him, fresh from the caverns and pitifully small, fervently attempting to burrow into her caretaker’s arm in an effort to escape the glow of his desk lamp.
He swept his gaze across her iridescent carapace and hummed thoughtfully. Finally, after some consideration, he asked to hold her. The cavern worker, of course, obliged, growing more and more hopeful that this deal would go through.
Though he took her gently, she cried as she was pulled away, squirming and squealing at his unfamiliar touch. His hands were too warm, the lights too bright, and her waxy fins curled inward to spell her displeasure.
He was taken with her instantly.
“How much?”
The jadeblood left with arms empty and pockets full.
He called the child Levlyn. A pleasant name, and one he claimed carried great meaning. He spoke of it whenever he first showed her off, petting the infant as she shivered in his lap.
A word from another world, he would say, the most dazzling of all the planets he encountered during his time in the fleet. A charming people with a colorful language, both now lost forever to the unrelenting tides of time and war.
He painted such a picture, leaving his colleagues to bemoan this loss as if it ever would have meant something to them before. How tragic that they would never see it, they said, of a place that had never existed.
And he would agree, a tragedy, yes, before drawing the conversation back to the grub, his latest acquisition.
He never was forced to decide exactly what her name would have meant. It was difficult to translate, he would explain. It required knowledge of the culture.
She fussed whenever they came, a hulking, many-eyed beast, with rattling laughter and clamoring voices that boxed her in on all sides. With no other place to flee, she would press her face against him as if trying to phase into his abdomen, spinning around to hide each time he turned her back to face the crowd.
And the sycophants would croon,
“Just look how affectionate!”
Levlyn grew up rowdy and cheerful, far less pliant than his first, who had always been quiet and polite. That was no matter, of course– a child was a simple thing to train. He was the Autocrat, after all, and titles were not awarded for nothing.
She quickly learned that obedience would be rewarded, and there seemed no limit to the toys, sweets, and clothing that he offered her, each accompanied by a gentle pat on the head.
She learned just as quickly that these rewards could be revoked.
Be it honest mistakes or deliberate disobedience, he did not hesitate to show her his ire. On the occasions his anger could not be expressed so quietly, a slap on the wrist and a night in her room would often suffice.
His other charge never seemed to find herself on the receiving end of these punishments, and Levlyn grew resentful of her sister.
What made Bellys so perfect?
She wanted to hate her, and many times she almost did. But when he wanted to know who broke the dining ware, who scratched the hardwood, who left a coat where it didn’t belong, Bellys would bow her head and lie. It was me.
When Levlyn lay in bed shivering, her blankets confiscated for the crime of running in the halls, Bellys shared her linens.
When Levlyn fell and scraped her knee, it was not the Autocrat who kissed it.
Still, she was his favorite, and for that, Levlyn almost truly hated her.
When he threw his parties, they were made to perform. Bellys, long-limbed and graceful, had found her talent in dance. Levlyn, meanwhile, was his songbird. She was always eager to entertain, thrilled when it came her turn to take the stage.
She would wait with bated breath, peering around corners into the ballroom full of trolls. Mostly seadwellers, save for the scattered purple socialites and indigo bodyguards that floated through the room.
They were always dressed beautifully, covered horn to toe in glittering jewels, precious metals, and the finest of Meretian fabrics. When he called her out, she reveled in the attention, fins fluttering as they marveled at the sight of her.
They would call her beautiful and pet her head, and some would even slip her treats from the table she was not allowed to touch. She relished every second she was paraded before them, proud to be a wonder.
She thought nothing of the way they spoke as if she were not there, the way each compliment was directed not at herself, but at him, standing just behind her with a hand upon her shoulder or head. She knew no different.
When she first felt something was amiss, it was their touch that set her off.
“May I?” they would ask, reaching for her fins.
“May I?” some would plead, hands drifting towards her tail.
“May I?” they always said, looking directly at him.
One early morning, she shied away when they reached for her, taking her guardian’s hand and looking up at him with large, pleading eyes. “I don’t want them to,” she whispered, just before the rage began to pool within him.
The following night, her bedroom was stripped of most belongings. She would not attend the next party, he told her. Bellys would take her place. Perhaps this would teach her not to take their admiration for granted, he said, locking the door as he left.
She might have learned her lesson, were it not for that last little phrase.
Was she not being taken for granted? Why did Bellys get everything? It wasn’t fair, and she was angry.
So she fled.
Her bedroom window contained no mechanism by which to open, but with enough force, her table lamp was enough to shatter it. She would come back, she told herself as she clambered outside, into air so fresh it made her lungs ache. She would come back in a night or two, when he realized how much he missed her.
Okay! This is. The last post I'm ever making about this, 1000% for certain cuz if this ever happens again I am simply giving up collapsing into dust forever. So it took me nearly all month but I finally managed to lock down a permanent housing situation, where I'm allowed to move in BEFORE the first of the month. I do have to pay a deposit, as well as cover temporary housing for the next two nights, however
Total, between first months + deposit, and two nights' housing, I'm looking at around 3200$ total, which I'm not asking for that whole amount because fuck thats so much money
Right now I'm just trying to cover the rooms (450$/2 nights) and the deposit (1400) ASAP, with the room obviously being most important since I need somewhere to sleep before work the next two days.
You can donate here if you're feeling generous, but my priority right now is commissions & finally selling the premade designs in my ko-fis. I will be making more premade designs the next couple nights as well as I need to get this handled ASAP.
First half of the mermay set, 20$ each, NOW includes the second half at preclaim with the replacements, all of which are going to get finished before bed tonight! FULL SET COMPLETELY FINISHED Reminder: no buy limit! All other TOS apply though
Had an assignment to create an art piece involving circuitry and chose to build off this old Nymira doodle I did a while ago while experimenting with some marker techniques
I think the Butcher should be unwell about working with meat. You walk in and ask for a particular cut, and watch an almost intimate display that makes you question whether you should be watching or not.
