Land of Doodles and Shitpost Horror Stories

I'm AJ/Quell, 24, they/them/e/en This is hopefully gonna be my drawings, poetry and art stuff blog c: Info Page!!

[narcissisticspaghetti]

finally drew this fucker after what - 2 years of thinking about it

Drew Hastur forever ago, it felt like time for Ligur to have a moment

[narcissisticspaghetti]

i hope we all can agree that requiring an octopus to sign all the requisite forms explaining why it deserves access to shelter for the night (and why it can’t sleep anywhere else); a crow to prove just how badly its wing got broken before anyone will agree to do surgery (not to mention jumping through the myriad hoops needed to pay for it); a dog to work long hours for someone else in order to afford dinner for itself and the puppies; or a salmon to bring a passport when it travels down and then back up the river it was born from, would all be utterly ridiculous and would result in stressed out confused animals with needs going unmet, and appalling amounts of unnecessary work. I hope we can agree this would be an unkind thing we would all be willing to abandon and condemn with prejudice.

and yet we as humans force each other through these indignities and tortures every single day and seem to expect each other to be fine?

this is beyond ridiculous. This is ignoring what we are with devastating consequences.

[furiousfinnstan]

@stvksn on ig

[moki-dokie]

i hope your god has asked you for mercy and i hope you've refused to forgive him

is so insanely powerful. that's gonna be seared in my brain for a long time. fuck.

[yesterdaysprint]

The St. Louis Star and Times, Missouri, November 4, 1910

[narcissisticspaghetti]

we three bodies in a row

I lay my face against a shoulder Just to feel warm skin against my lips The gentle press of my nose and the tickle of fine hair I close my eyes and breathe in deeply Savoring the dizziness of proximity The smell of sleep, mulled sweat, and trust Just the other side of this body before me is another Equally as warm, equally as precious A mountain range of bones and breath An awe-inspiring phenomenon, the two of you Drifting somewhere comfortable At peace in your repose I am honored to have you both That you would choose my bed again and again That you would trust me with this intimacy With the guardianship of your rest I want to take good care of you That you might stay a little longer

[narcissisticspaghetti]

We are never alone because we have ourselves. We created this beautiful, breathing, evolving and diversifying reality and everything within it to enrich ourselves, to learn and play and explore, to love and nurture. And everything that happens within is part of that process. It’s pointless, and it’s wonderful.

We are the Life we live.

We are the breath of this world, its blood and bones.

We are the conflict, the curiosity, the pain and the doubt.

We are the scraped knees, the fear and the resentment.

We are the very mind that thought us up, the tiny impulses of energy that is the distribution of information, its memory.

We are the process through which one learns to be lost. Learns to balance. Learns how to learn.

Learns to be better.

[theblogginggoth]

By Czeck writer Karel Čapek, inventor of the term ‘robot’ as well!

[nadiacreek]

This is one of my husband’s favorite short stories. He quotes it from memory. I’m pretty sure he can recite the entire thing from memory.

[elodieunderglass]

This is a tremendously impactful short story and every time I see it, it serves as an excellent reboot button for my state of mind.

[chaoskiro]

[ID: Text. From The Point of View of a Cat.

This is my Man. I am not afraid of him. He is very strong, for he eats a great deal; he is an Eater of All Things. What are you eating? Give me some!

He is not beautiful, for he has no fur. Not having enough saliva, he has to wash himself with water. He meows in a harsh voice and a great deal more than necessary. Sometimes in his sleep he purrs.

Let me out!

I don’t know how he has made himself Master; perhaps he has eaten something sublime.

He keeps my rooms clean for me.

In his paws he carries a sharp black claw and he scratches with it on white sheets of paper. That is the only game he plays. He sleeps at night instead of by day, he cannot see in the dark, he has no pleasures. He never thinks of blood, never dreams of hunting or fighting; he never sings songs of love.

Often at night when I can hear mysterious and magic voices, when I can see that the darkness is all alive, he sits at the table with his head bent and goes on and on, scratching with his black claw on the white papers. Don’t imagine that I am at all interested in you. I am only listening to the soft whispering of your claw. Sometimes the whispering is silent, the poor dull head does not know how to go on playing, and then I am sorry for him and I meow softly in sweet and sharp discord. Then my Man picks me up and buries his hot face in my fur. At those times he divines for an instant a glimpse of a higher life, and he sighs with happiness and purrs something that can almost be understood.

But don’t think that I am at all interested in you. You have warmed me, and now I will go out again and listen to the dark voices.

Translated by Dora Round; revised by the editor. Originally published in Intimate Things, 1935. End ID.]

[narcissisticspaghetti]

I love her

I love her so much she makes me glow

Oh dear, this is quite a lot to feel

Maybe someday I'll let her know, but I'd rather say it to her face or not at all

[narcissisticspaghetti]

I would ask for your hand in mine, to trace the scars of hard work and harder play, feel them smooth against my lips

A kiss on every knuckle, every fingertip, my devotion written softly on your skin, invisible yet undeniable

One last kiss to your wrist, just to linger there, inhale your sweet perfume and watch you from below

How will you receive me?

[narcissisticspaghetti]

Pressure

In my head, I have my lips pressed to your skin. Your cheeks, your nose, your knuckles, your toes, your wrists, ankles, throat, chest, trailing up your arms, your thighs, between… everywhere at once. All except your lips, I’m saving them for last. In my head, I have you pressed down into the sheets. Your mouth hangs open in joy, arousal, focus lost in pleasure. Every little touch brings electricity, delight, your warmth keeps me alight, burning for you… with you. We’re doing this together. In my head, I press myself close to you. Smirk in satisfaction at your head thrown back and eyes blown wide, adrift among so many stars, brilliant and unknowable, terrible thing you are. There are trillions of glorious experiences in this world, and you are all I can conceive of, all that I adore. In my head I press my fingers to your scalp; Push and pull as the ocean does, lull you into a pliant heap, paint fireworks and massive trees along your limbs and back, for you are just as spectacular. I am honored that you trust me so. In my head I press my lips to yours. Drink in the sounds of you from faintest whimper to cacophonous screams. Your every breath is mine as well tonight, for we are one, I have you. I won’t be letting go anytime soon.

[narcissisticspaghetti]

Unmoored, my orbit broken, and my feet swept out beneath me Inexorably caught up in the currents of Her breath And though it is beyond my every hope of perspicacity I find myself escaping the impermanence of death To gain and lose, to feel one’s world rip through you fingers bleeding Clawing, grasping, reaching for the dearest of all truths Though force of will and forces well beyond my understanding I gravitate-precipitate-come right back home to you

Always you

Because Bucky wrote a thing and I had to grab a thought and run with it.

[narcissisticspaghetti]

Let‘s just stay right here, In the peace and quiet. Tucked away under the dining room table with our love and a picnic basket between us. The walls are the warmest blankets And the pillows we have stolen from the sofa. Our meal is cobbled together from memories, Curries from down the street where we have been so many times, Muffins from the bakery we love for the conversation and the strange new paintings every month. Wine from an adventure we had so many years ago, one of us stole it while we hid in the cellar but neither of us can remember which It doesn’t matter. We could be drinking from empty teacups and I would be just as content.

empty teacups

[narcissisticspaghetti]

You can’t see the stars from the hospital parking lot. Light pollution, eh? He’s waiting for you, inside. He has no idea you are coming.

[narcissisticspaghetti]

You pop in and out of my life; Fleeting glimpses, the occasional burst of sunlight through the windows of the train as it hurtles through tunnels and under bridges; The brilliant spots of warmth glimpsed through the trees at the side of the road. Every time I see you I turn my face up and bask in your blinding brilliance. I know you will be gone soon, and I miss you when you’ve disappeared, But I know you are never gone too long I will see you again. And someday this trip will end, The train will stop, I will disembark, and step into the light of you

☀️ ☀️ ☀️

[narcissisticspaghetti]

My love come with me, I’ll show you a place A peaceful haven, a beautiful space A garden for flowers and shelves full of books Where our coats can hang up on parallel hooks We’ll build it together, a life in this house Oh come with me darling, oh come be my spouse

Come with me

[narcissisticspaghetti]

Her fingers are cold as ice as she touches your face in tiny drops, Brushes your skin with gentle insistence, You can hear the seagulls, calling out far above In harmony with her, in contrast to her You can smell the salt, the evidence of her timelessness Feel the rocks worn smooth under her ministrations, the tiny grains of sand between your toes, She sings to you, in a rumble you can feel in your bones, A calling so old there are no words to carry its meaning And yet you understand She is ancient, and young, As you are ancient, and young Built from scratch, look what you’ve each become Vast and unknowable, beautiful and strong, You have come so far, my love Just think how much farther we have yet to go

~ 🌊 ~ Written for a commenter on AO3

[narcissisticspaghetti]

Clever words slip like temptation from Lips as red as the tempter’s apple, A brilliant mind as rich as the soil in Eden Spinning tales to spin the mind and A thousand worlds of sweet and bitter agony, Coax them onto the page and spread Flustered smiles and bitten lips Basking in the light of her Await with baited breath Each new whisper she deigns to give Delightful and dangerous

The Tempter’s Apple 🍎 For Cham, ilu 💚