ŕ Ë. If youâre interested in chatting with me on Discord for one reason or another, please reach out here!
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Art Trades/Art Collabs are open! If youâd be interested in one, you can totally DM me and we can discuss it!
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Lets Chat About Boundaries,
âŚ.° If you are a minor, I would prefer we speak in PUBLIC settings. ( Comments and Asks are open to all ) The safety of minors online matters to me, and I have few reasons to be interacting in private chats with ANYONE under 18.
âŚ.° I am generally open to receive DMs from adults. I donât mind if you hop in there, provided you are cordial.
âŚ.° Do not argue with me about shipping/fandom content, or try to have political debates. I am on the internet to not have to worry about politics, I donât want to chat about them. There are lots of other spaces to do so, and my page or my DMs are not one of them.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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they are so sweet to me. i want them to explore how gentle and affectionate people can be with each other because no one really showed them that. not properly or recently at least.
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Artfight is one week away so here is your friendly reminder that Artfight is an art GIFTING game for all artists regardless of skill level.
If you are afraid of getting attacked by beginner artists and donât want to get âlow qualityâ art (thereâs no such thing btw) then this event is not for you.
I absolutely love and cherish every single attack I get but the âfree fanartâ is not why I participate. There is so much joy and satisfaction in finding first year art fighters and characters with no attacks to draw for!
The online art community sucks. Hands down. But Artfight is a time where we can and should support one another! Thatâs why I participate. To work on my own craft and to encourage others to do the same.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Jimmy turned over, tired eyes creeping open. They had been lying back to back, Jimmy slowly slipping in and out of consciousness on the very brink of sleep until Curlyâs voice roused him.
His head was a mess of curls as always, splayed against the nape of his neck and the pillow he laid on. As he too rolled, those same curls framed his face in a way that only added to the pitiful expression on his face.
âPlease.â Curly murmured, bright blue eyes somehow dulled by the sentiment in his voice.
Rolling his own, Jimmy gave a non committal sound as he reached out, making room for the much larger man in his arms.
After the many nights he had pried Curlyâs arms open after memories had turned to nightmares and crawled into his embrace without so much as asking, he supposed it should be paid forward.
âCâmere then.â
Curly didnât reply, instead throwing himself into Jimmyâs offered arms and pulling their bodies snug. Warmth he hadnât realized he missed flooded him, Curlyâs heart beating subtly against his chest.
It wouldâve looked ridiculous from an outsiders perspective, someone as brawny as Curly huddled against Jimmy, Jimmyâs chin a top his head. But even the image that popped into his head couldnât ruin the sudden warmth filling his chest as he felt the tremble of Curlyâs back and arms around him.
The pathetic sound of a sob followed, and for once Jimmy chose to say nothing. Didnât toss sarcasm into the ring of emotions, or snark about the fact Curly was a grown man.
He couldnât. Not when his own arms wrapped around his friend, leaving no space between them, fingers tangling in the blonde hair at his nape.
A sickeningly sweet sensation filled his body, a thrill of warmth shooting down to churn in his stomach.
Curly hadnât gone to anyone else. He hadnât left. Hadnât gone for a drive or remained silent.
Follow Curly through the events of the end of the game, up until Jimmyâs funeral, and some much needed closure with himself and Jimmyâs only living relative his mother.
Lots of JimCurly flavored moments here despite Jimmy being deceased, but if you arenât a fan of JimCurly, it can be read as mostly platonic as well.
https://archiveofourown.org/series/5143956
Thank you to everyone who supported me through this project and past works. I have a few particular Ao3 and Tumblr floaters I can think of who have cheered me on and celebrated with me as each part was uploaded.
Most of all I have to thank Purple, the two of us have spent a year now compiling and coming up with all kinds of headcanons and ideas related to JimCurly, which are reflected through all of my Mouthwashing related works.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Curlyâs grip tightened, his eyes hard and brows furrowed. Jimmy wasnât sure what to say, tugging to pull his wrist back to himself, Curlyâs grip only tightening.
âLet go.â
âLet go? Thats like asking me to watch you drown!â
Jimmy grit his teeth, but slowly released the tension in his arm, letting it fall as far as it could at his side before its weight snagged on where Curly held.
âLet me drown then.â
He hadnât meant for the tightness of his throat to show through, the words spoken like he was trying to swallow the realization that he wanted nothing more than that. To slowly feel crushed beneath an inability to breathe, for the panic of drowning through life to become the sensation of stillness that came with unconsciousness.
Curly squeezed Jimmyâs wrist hard with furrowed brows. Those blue eyes he found solace in appearing sharper than heâd seen in ages.
Heâd messed up this time. Gone too far. Wasnât careful enough to ensure heâd slip under the radar like he always had. But maybe that was good. Maybe that meant Curly would leave him behind this time, leave him to rot like the sullen carcass he was.
Not today.
Not as he felt the crushing sensation of Curly pulling him into a hug, mashing their chests together like if he pressed hard enough, theyâd meld into one organism.
One flesh, one heart, one sense of pain.
If it were at all possible, maybe it would feel manageable for once. Shared with the optimism and determination that seeped through the pours of Curlyâs personality, perhaps pain would turn to a subtle sting. Pain that lingered for as long as Jimmy could remember, festering scars on his body and a soul aching to be remedied.
Jimmy hadnât realized he was crying, until he pressed his face into the offered shoulder and felt the fabric dampen with tears.
No words came from either of them, just a warm palm against his back as Jimmy shuttered in the attempt to hold back a sob. Embarrassingly though it choked its way free, limbs wobbling under the realization he was humiliating himself.
ââŚlet me drown.â He repeated, this time the words emitting from someplace further in his throat, the muscles clenching as he fought against sorrow.
âNo.â The hand that still encapsulated Jimmyâs wrist gently brushed along the skin just below his wrist, pressing in and around the dual tendons there. âIâm not going to watch you do this and do nothing about it.â
With a final squeeze from the broad arm around him, Curly pulled back just enough for Jimmy to feel the warmth of his breath as it washed over his face. âYouâve got to stop.â He muttered as his arm slipped away, instead gripping the edge of his sleeve.
Jimmy couldnât look away. Didnât dare look away. Guilt pouring in to fill every gap of his aching heart, guilt not at the infliction upon his body but at the subtle furrow of Curlyâs blonde brows and the way his forehead and nose creased.
Disappointment. Disgust. Pain.
A reflection of his own feeling, caught in Curlyâs visage.
