It just be like that sometimes huh.
Also, wanted to start a little Kofi page. Nothing big, but yeah. Its there if ya wanna use it
https://www.ko-fi.com/Y8Y7IYLA
Here are some things I’ve done. I know i haven’t posted here in forever but hey why not show some stuff. If anyone IS interested in my stuff, go check out my twitter~!
https://twitter.com/Ryevee_Mouse
Per my last anon, you have literally NOTHING to apologize for. It was all on me and my shitty insecurities and this probably doesn’t answer ANY questions for you but I had to say it for me and I’m just really sorry dude. I genuinely wish you all the best because you really deserve it.
Uhh... well, now I just feel bad. I’d be down to talk... if we’ve talked somewhere before tbh. And like I said before, its been rough, but I’m really trying
I’m pretty sure I know who runs this account? And if you are who I think you are... I hope things are well for you and I feel really guilty how everything went down between us.
This just makes me have more questions??? I appreciate it, and I’m sorry? >w
More redo’s of characters... sorta. I think I want to keep that old glyph boy, Zynon, separate from this warrior, but I also don’t wanna say I didn’t think about having him be this guy. :/
I redid scratch from a while ago, cleaning him up and shit. I didn’t like how he was just a rough sketch so here ya go. Again, sorry for the low volume of art. whhops
Tears fill my eyes as I read the words on my screen. The world seems to stop spinning for the slightest second as I re-read the anonymous message over and over again, gripping on to the hope that the words will magically disappear. But they didn’t. Anon had done it; they’d figured out that the only way to make me take off my hijab was to call my hair ugly. My one weakness.
A tear streams down my left cheek.
Eight years of academy hijab training…wasted. I had to prove this extremely relevant and good-looking anonymous person wrong, I cared too much about what they thought. How could I live my life knowing that there is one person out there who thinks probably my hair is ugly maybe? How could I look myself in the mirror? How could I face my family? My shoulders shook as I cried silently, and my chair squeaked ever so slightly at the vibrations; as if it, too, was crying in sorrow.
It wasn’t until that moment that the second part of the message dawned on me… how would I prove them wrong without breaking the rules? Was it really against the rules? I reach into my hijab and pull out a scroll. At the very top, in cursive jet-black inked letters, the word ‘Rules’ stares back at me. My heart is racing as my eyes frantically read the scroll.
‘Rule #1: no killing people,’ it reads. I let out a whimper. There go my evening plans.
Suddenly, my eye catches the next words. The scroll is rustling in my trembling hands as I turn my face away, tears spraying out of my eyes like the spit of a white person as they try to justify racism. The cursive words felt more like a curse of words, vivid and refusing to disappear as if I were still staring at them even through my closed eyes.
Rule #2: don’t show ur hair girl it’s ugly lmaooooo