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10 months ago
I Loved Painting This One. It Was Truly A Delight To Create And I Hope That Shows πŸ’š

I loved painting this one. It was truly a delight to create and I hope that shows πŸ’š

Full process video over on my Patreon!


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6 months ago

The Undertale Yellow Fandom needs more Moray appreciation

The Undertale Yellow Fandom Needs More Moray Appreciation

Like seriously, it's sad how little Moray is talked about.

IK the Feisty Four as a whole are eclipsed by Starlo when it comes to the fandom, but at least Ace and Mooch get attention. I hardly see anything about Moray.

I mean, c'mon, they have one of the best and more unique side character designs in the game and they're really damn sweet!

UTY fans, I humbly ask that you please give our local enby fish more love.


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1 month ago

A Mirror Too Full and a Plate Too Empty

Hunger gnaws at me from within, piercing my insides and programming my senses. It makes its way from my stomach to my heart, passing through my muscles and leaving my bones cold, but it can't reach my mind. I have walls defending my purpose, with cracks that allow my sanity and health to spill out.

It's impossible to move forward; my steps slow down every day, and my body, despite being thinner, grows heavier every day. The tape tightens ever tighter around my waist, holding my breath in a way it shouldn't, but it's gratifying. My ribs stick out and my wrists are weak, and yet the reflection in the mirror remains the same as before; every insecurity surfaces the moment eyes fall on me, like a phantom pain that haunts my thoughts.

I've noticed looks of pity and expressions of concern, all directed my way. Why aren't they happy to see me now? Could it be that they don't notice how much weight I've lost? Or perhaps they've noticed too much?

They've noticed my hair loss, my dark circles under my eyes, the skin sticking to my bones, my weak steps, or perhaps my lack of appetite.

My throat aches to expel every taunt, every comment, every opinion... But they don't go away: the taunts are replaced by questions and interrogations about my health, the comments, in murmurs around me, and yet every thread in my mind connects in the form of a mirror too full and a plate too empty.

And while the bile rests on the toilet, the scale escapes from its corner and into my hands, a daily routine that leads me to nothing: breakfast, fasting, vomiting, weighing... But what was my goal?

I've forgotten it along the way, right next to my old self. That me who didn't attach more importance to the number of calories I consumed than to my own vitality, that me who didn't feel pure disgust at a simple apple, that me who didn't live in misery...

The scarcity of food comforts my pain and my lament, but at the same time it is the burden that weakens me.

My compassion for myself ended when the pain became pleasurable.


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