Never Got Around To Finishing This One. Original And ID Below Cut

As someone who has similar hair to Chonny I appreciate him repping it.

Is also makes me want to cosplay as Heart.

The chonny jash brainrott is real istg

Like I can't even see red blue and purple kind of close to each other without going "IS THAT A CHONNY JASH REFERENCE??!?!?!?!?"

My friends hate me for it/j

I did not know I needed Chonny and Heathers

*throws this* HEATHERS AU LMAO Really just for an excuse to draw to draw them in outfits that realistically none of them aside from Stratos would WEAR LOL

Also a ghost Stratos in Chandlers bathrobe lmao. @socialc1imb is the main proprietor to this by HER THREATENING TO GHOSTIFY SOUL ANYWAY LMAO

more writing of this guy because I really like him. :P

“FAUST, bring me my cologne” Faust was sick and tired of working all day but obliged nonetheless. Johann G. Faust was used to being a servant for Lucifer, but today was extra demanding. The fallen angel apparently had a date tonight and was taking it very seriously. “OH MY, UNDER MY CHIN HOW DID I FORGET TO SHAVE UNDER MY CHIN. FAUST, BRING ME MY RAZOR!” Many found his gravely New Yorkin accent charming, but to Faust, it had become extraordinarily grading on his ears. Like a ringing chirp of broken alarm clock that formed a polycule with nails and a chalkboard. “FAUST!! Oh, there you are.” He took the cologne and razor from Faust with not as much as a look or nod of gratitude. His usual Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts were replaced with an abyssal black suit jacket and dress pants that made his usual blazing red skin pop. He had a glowing white button up, that was borrowed from Michael, under his jacket topped with a black tie that itself was decorated with a blue flame pattern at the bottom. “Faust go get some horn cream from the hallways closet… please.” Faust thought that if he put this much effort into the monthly meeting, God might respect him more, but he kept that thought to himself. As Lucifer was applying the cream to his tiny coned horns, Faust noticed that his hair didn’t seem to be as thin as it usually was; he must have used some sort of magic instead of his usual comb over technique. Lucifer started to use an eyebrow pencil to fill in his pencil ‘stache before looking at Faust halfway through. He chuckled awkwardly at his soul-bound companion “Too much?” “You'll look good either way, sir. It’s up to your personal taste.” Faust talked in his usual quiet reserved manner; the only remnants of his once German accent was the fact he still pronounced his w’s as v’s. Lucifer finished his mustache filling and for the finishing touch put on some mascara and eye-shadow. As Faust waited at the door watching his master leave, he couldn’t help but notice how the king of hell and punisher of the damned had his spaded tail wagging in excitement. 

Jashtober day 7: Moss

 I look upon this world and I see beauty. It is finite and it is easily defiled, but it is beautiful. A set of random events caused one single-celled organism to evolve and split into a system of complex webs and ecosystems. Each animal, plant, and bacteria rely on each other to prevent their lives from falling into entropy. I was formed from the cosmos. Perhaps from a dying star or a collapsing blackhole. Maybe even the big bang. Whatever it was has long ago left my memory. I’ve seen every dwarf planet and neutron star, but this– this is amazing. I learn of the humans’ fascination with space and find myself confused. They talk about space's vastness compared to the earth’s tiny nature in the grand scheme. I reply: the desert is large and the oasis small, but that doesn’t make the oasis any less brilliant. The simple and elegant greens and blues that twist and entwine. The water and greenery bring life to everything around it and in return the animals bring their own life to sustain the greenery . Much more interesting than the grains of sand we call the universe. As strange as the humans’ ideas may be, I can not help but find peace and familiarity within the little creatures. They’re like microcosms of myself. Loving and hateful. Hopeful and nihilistic. Elated and bored. A being of gorgeous inspiration and disgusting shame. They see the same love in nature as I do. Well, some of them do. They might even be better than myself. They've created things I wish I could claim to be of my hands. Noises into music, shapes into art, and symbols into writing. I’ve collected as much of it into myself as I can and it’s wonderful. To be human is to be everything that is the oasis, right on the cusp of finding the mysteries in the desert. I suppose I would be those mysteries. I hope they never find me or any other of those mysteries. I am not grand, not as grand as the moss that grows on the trees. Not as grand as the fungi sprouting from the dew. Not as grand as flowers that sprout despite a prison of concrete. Not as grand as mammals that manage in the water. Not as grand horrors that creak in the darkness. Not as grand as the animals that once ruled, forever entrapped in rock. Not as grand as burrows that keep warm during the cold months. Not as grand as the web perfectly crafted by a spider. Not as grand as each painting, ballad, and sonnet I intake. Not as grand as this oasis. Perhaps I shall learn from the humans and start a journal. First entry: legend of the moss.

Jashtober day 12: Haiku

I like Chonny Jash

Both covers and originals 

Haikus are easy

Okay, so this is the most niche thing ever, but my friend @caywall is big into this band named Yardact (I also enjoy quite a bit of their songs), and he was curious about any potential connection between them and Chonny. So now this exists in the world. The two other fans of both Chonny and Yardact are freaking out right now.

Pride month writing thing (specifically transfem :3)

The small droplets of water ran down my cheek. From the water radiated comfort. Not a release of dismay but of elation. My watered eyes, for the first time in what feels longer than my memory can withstand, wept tears of joy and not repression, or pain or stress or anything like that. In the mirror I do not see a hurt sad boy, but a strong brave woman. Despite all the hate she got. Despite all the friends and family she sadly left behind. Despite the countless doctor appointments that felt like they went nowhere. Despite the anxiety of going out dressed in a way that felt real and right. Despite the nonsense politics. Despite her own lack of faith she would or even could survive. Despite everything she stood happy and proud. Through all the change I could still see the person I once was, the once sad boy. From the boy I saw not fear but relief. Despite what my parents had told me, I had not killed the boy. The boy was never real. The boy was nothing more than a mask and after all this time there stood the person who was always underneath. The girl smiled. I smiled. Happy pride month. 

Literally me

To anyone who knows me, I'm sure I sound absurd

But I'm an egoistic queer under any definition of the word