#systems please interact

DESPITE HAVING INFINITE KNOWLEDGE IN MY SOURCE, THIS VESSEL CANNOT CONTAIN IT. I WISH TO KNOW. IT WOULD BE MUCH EASIER THAN THIS.

well , um … evie’s tumblr is brand new , and she has no clue how 2 go about finding friends / mutuals on here loool .. ₍ᵔ·͈༝·͈ᵔ₎ a sketch evie did for attention !!

anyway .. hi !! this is not evie’s full intro ( check pinned ) but evie is looking for oomfies ! ₍˄·͈༝·͈˄*₎◞ ̑̑

evie will mainly reblog things here , post random thoughts / journal - style rambles .. sys stuff … blahblah !!!! (・ω・｀)

evie has been doodling recently , and might post more of that … but hopefully evie won’t bore the crowd away too fast !! (>人<；)

learn evie’s other interests by .. following her !! ;) lolol

evie’s only dni is radqueers , and evie’s blog is 18 + preferably !!

other than that , check evie’s pinned for more stuff .. and let’s be besties !! forever and ever and ever !! ₍ᵔ·͈༝·͈ᵔ₎

Co-written by Grian (🍉) and Pearl (🪩)

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I want to dance with the stars. I want to hold their beauty in the palms of my hands, to run my fingers across their surface and be consumed by their light.

I want to bridge the gap between me and the sky, to live amongst the clouds and greet the sun like an old lover. Like we are in love.

I want to lay with the moon, to speak to it and maybe for once I would like for it to speak back.

I know I cannot do any of this, the wax of my wings long melted away and leaving my back bare, my feet grounded and nothing but a longing in my chest.

My back is covered in burn scars, littered reminders of what I have become, I watch as the world soars above me and the sun sets along the trees, yet my feet stay planted on the ground.

And no matter how I long for the sky, it terrifies me all the same. I stare at hands offered in my direction, wings spread with a kind smile and I turn the other way, a lie of my lips. "I'm afraid of heights"

But really I fear nothing but my own hands. I fear I will take another's in my own and it will burn, my scars will replicate themselves onto another back and their skin will blister from my touch.

So I will keep my feet rooted into the ground and let myself long for the clouds, ignorant to the decay of my mind as moss creeps up my skin and vines secure my body like chains.

I let the forest claim me as her own, and I accept my fate. I will never feel the wind again, the stars will be a distant memory, and my roots will strengthen over the years.

Written by : Cupid/Simpbur/💕

Name : He loves me, he loves me not.

Written : October 27th, 2023, 2:30am

Posted by : Cupid/Simpbur/💕

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He loves me!

The words we share and each interaction fills my heart with warmth, he calls me nice things and he thinks I'm pretty.

He loves me not.

What if it was all platonic, surely I've misjudged all of this haven't I? You can say those things to your friends, I just assumed instead of asking. I've got this all wrong.

He loves me,

He makes me things and doesn't treat me like just a friend, he said it was flirting right?

He loves me not.

I've got this all wrong. He probably meant it all as a joke, I've taken everything the wrong way and made him uncomfortable with everything I've said. He's going to leave.

He loves me? (right?)

Surely I'm just overthinking right? I mean even if I misjudged and it was platonic he'd tell me if he was uncomfortable, right?

He loves me not.

There's no way he could, he's probably just too scared to tell me I've got it all wrong because I'm a monster. He should leave, I'd deserve it.

He loves me..

No he doesn't.

It's got some quite dark themes so a little bit of a forewarn there, I'm not entirely sure what tws would be proper for this, so proceed at your own risk,

Poem by : collective

Name : "Wishing on stars and choking on ashes"

Written : Some time during late 2022/early 2023 ( somewhere between August 2022-Febuary 2023)

Posted by : collective

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11:11 make a wish.

I wish for it to be better. I wish for the trembling weakness crushing my body under its embrace to disapper, for fading scars filled with memories erase themselves from paled skin, the memories of their cause gone with them.

I wish to be happy, I wish for someone to love me and tell me I'm worth more then what I can give out, that the person I am is more important then the pleasure I provide.

I scream. In my head I scream my wishes into an empty fog, hearing them echo back at me, taunting me and reminding me that they can't possibly come true.

I whisper them into the soft of a worn stuffed animal wet with tears, they've seen this before, they've felt my tears and stayed inanimate as I broke and pleaded for someone to care.

I'd be doomed of they gained sentience. Secrets locked away in worn fabric that could never be shared with another human. Words too fragile to say to a friend because you never know their intentions.

It's childish really, wishes.

Except like all things from being a child this too has been tainted with age.

Wishes that once were reserved for new toys and good grades now turned pleads for someone to love, pleads that you won't die alone.

Then again, what do I know about childish wishes? As they say, born into a burning house, right?

Yet my house was never burning, I never experienced the warm flicker of flames and found comfort in the burn of a fire.

No, I was born to a house long burnt down.

Cold air nipped at new flesh and burned into a child's skin in a way so similar yet so far from a flame.

Cold seeped into my bones and left a chill in every last part of me.

Yet just like a child born into the flames I found comfort and solace in the cold.

I choose to subject myself to the burn of the cold against my skin despite the part of me that begs for warmth, begs to curl under a blanket and find a place to call home.

Yet I deny it. I rush into the cold and relish the burn, let it seep through my skin and kill me slowly, the pain a deadly yet familiar lullaby.

I want to give into the part of me that begs for warmth. But I can't.

I've given in before, sat by the fire and let the chill begin to melt away, only to be shoved into the flames and burned in such a familiar yet foreign way.

So I subject to the cold, stick to the burn I know and the chill in my bones.

Maybe one day my body will find peace, sink to the ground in a home with no flames and no ash. A strong foundation and a warmth that doesn't burn like pinpricks of vengeance across raw flesh.