Sometimes I Create Accounts On An App And Then Suddenly Dip RIGHT AFTER I Did One Thing.

i love seeing my moots on my twt art acc (thats lcf-main, and has been inactive for 2 years) here on tumblr and seeing if they actually recognize me or not

WHY'D U EVIL BOOP ME GRRRR

SKHXKS I ACCIDENTALLY PRESSED IT WHILE I WAS SUPER BOOPING YOU— SORRYY ;A;

How do you *super*boop?? What devil did u sell your soul to for this power

if you're on a pc or laptop, you can hover your cursor on the boop button for a few seconds and it'll spin. when it does, click it and you'll get something like this!

i love opening my notif page and its just one random person spamming me boops for 10 minutes straight

Sneak peek to one of my (more decent) sketches of Vanilla bc i couldn't resist showing it kdjfkdjx

This whole spread of sketches i did will probably take longer to finish since there's some scenes I'm dying to draw. And i need to analyze the fic thoroughly to get those little details right, and add some of my headcanons/theories here and there.

I have 5 major schoolworks due next week— but i just spent 2 hours hyperfixating on kyusakku's mashle fic, and sketching out Vanilla and Rayne on 2 pages of my sketchbook.

Noodle husband does best cuddles

TO KILL THE VIBRANT ꮼ lemon irvine.

it feels like i've fallen for you completely, maybe it's best that you can't be here. angst | gn reader | drabble.

vibrant is when you see lemon irvine gleefully rambling something about tomorrow being exciting and fun for her in this tired afternoon with soft rain gently making its presence known through the drum on your rooftop and coloring your windows gray. she holds your hand and clings to it every so often as she mentions a certain someone, his name on her tongue like a prayer; her eyes so bright that stars could never rival. and her wish to be with the name her mouth could ever so sweetly utter is bigger than that of your heart slowly writhing in pain.

vibrant is when there's hope that flicker and never fickle in the sun that is lemon irvine. hoping that someday you'll understand the spark that comes with her touches, leaving trails of herself on your skin like the syrup-soaked pancake she made for all of her friends and one for you softening around roof of your tongue. hoping that someday you won't have to curse out the certain someone whenever you see her with him. hoping that someday…someday, as if it would fall to you willingly, as if she would look in your direction at any point—which completely obliterates everything that she holds dear—someday she'll see the look that you have because it's the look that she gives to mash fucking burnedead and you know damn well it will never be you.

vibrant is when there is a surging impulse coursing your bloodstream once you see the book series she's been eyeing for months and you snatch it without hesitation, because you're sure she'd love it, because you're sure of your feelings that sit in your heart like a badge free from its burdens. because in lemon, everything else is elevated. and it's not like she'll know the existence of your feelings, for months you've emptied your lungs of the suffocating air you were subjecting yourself to breathe, for months you slowly accept that you will always be what you have always been:

"a very sweet & good friend of mine!"

her voice, god, you could listen to it all day. enough to lift off the weights pulling you down, enough to be the warmth like the sun to the moon (you). so what if you're just a friend? so what if she doesn't see you the way you see her? so what if the world doesn't place itself at your hands and you could've got what you wanted if things had been different? so what if you're not the reason that the vibrant exists?

so what if you could only admire but not touch the rays of sun because she's not yours?

the words written in a handwriting slightly twisted from its origin, preventing the receiver from recognizing them, is an act of protection. you are not capable of dimming the vibrant, you cannot kill the sun, you cannot risk lemon catching onto these wretched feelings of yours. so, you protect them instead, for both of you. this confession letter of yours doesn't disclose its sender; it is neatly tucked into her desk, alone, not for any eyes to see. only hers. only her soft citrine eyes.

"woah! what's this?"

you hear her voice from the other side of the wall. you don't see it, but you can feel the smile forming on her pretty lips, her hands that flail around when she gets excited—that earns a quiet chuckle from you. cute, she's cute.

"oh my…its a love letter." your hands clench unconsciously, your teeth sinking itself on your bottom lip with harshness as if to punish yourself for doing this. everything about liking lemon feels so wrong. you need to stop.

you hear soft sniffs and crying feebly. "aaa, its…really sweet and genuine." your eyes start to feel melting hot, it glistens under the dusky room. its just you, all alone, not really for the eyes to see.

(not for hers to see, too.)

"i wonder who sent this. i wish they could at least give a clue."

you remove yourself from the wall, not wanting to hear beyond what you are only allowed. you walk out with your cheeks damp, a frown that signifies the death of the vibrant inside you.

"it seems like they know me a lot, too. hm…"

"…i can understand why they'd leave it anonymous."

"yeah, i…i think i get it. and they know my answer already. i'm sorry…"

"i'm sorry." she mumbles your name, hushed. "and thank you. i promise i'll keep this safe and hidden. because you're my sweet, sweet friend. always have, i don't want that to change."

tags. @seneon lawl surprise

notes. breaking news: @kyoghurts will now be at their angst writing season. goodluck handling the heartache. stay strong (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) ੭

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

bonus points if someone comes in and interrupts you and you have to start all over.

i have research papers due by midnight but im just here booping everyone i see