artemisthorn

[artemisthorn]

Being like. Post-suicidal is so strange. Like hiiiii everybody im new I spent a good chunk of my life languishing and have like 3 or 4 lived experiences. But now I'm ready to fuck and party or whatever. Can we be friends. Im so happy to be here. Can we be friends

[artemisthorn]

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Oh man, he looks so devastatingly *cool* with that cigarette.

[artemisthorn]

mech pilot trainee who just flunked out of the program. she wasn’t supposed to be anything but a weapon and she couldn’t even do that right.

she doesn’t have anything. no house, no job, no car, no free will, no legal protections. her entire life down to the level of her brain has been organized around piloting a mech for years and now she doesn’t get to do that. she doesn’t know who she is and she doesn’t even know how to turn back on the higher level brain function that would let her try to answer that question.

she’s basically an empty shell that had a human being in it once. she eats and sleeps and uses the bathroom like a person, but her eyes are completely dead. now she just sits places, silently and unmoving, for hours at a time, waiting for orders she’ll never receive…

[artemisthorn]

CW SH, Substance Abuse

The sudden, breathless shudder.

The all consuming shock as the soft tissue inside my face is violated by shattered crystals of caustic chemicals.

In an instant I am present.

In an instant the turbulent, indistinct, confounding bewilderment of my subdued sense of personhood is extinguished.

There is only pain, and the urgent, irrepressible urge to react, to get through that moment.

Complexity and nuance are impossible.

I am simply the survival of that pain, frozen in time.

I know soon there will be so much more, some of it unreplicatable in its unique beauty, some of it unrelentingly despair inducing, always however there is the reassuring and comforting routine. An emotional rehearsal. The grief is as important as the euphoria.

The blade is different, I feel fear and trepidation before, but once I am calm there is no pain. I wait expectantly for the blood, the delay itself; as the vivid red begins to  playfully peek out like a hidden gift, is more painful than the act. Impatiently I pull at the wound, encouraging it to release and yield.

There is a great deal of manual dexterity and technique to properly preparing a crystalline compound to snort it. I am adept at this, I've had more than a decade of regular practice.

The finer the particles the better the adherence to the surface area of the sinuses.

The better bioavailability.

The greater the pain.

The tiny shards, invisibly sharp to the naked eye like snowflakes, can more economically eviscerate the soft tissue and begin dissolving into the blood vessels, melting away the flesh in the process.

If you do this irregularly, it will heal.

I do not.

They do their work, bewitching my neurochemical balance with a siren song of disingenuous satisfaction, peace, safety and healing.

To arrange it neatly in appropriate doses, to do this in a time efficient manner as the frequency and size of the doses increases, to do it with blurred vision, shaking hands and building paranoia pulling your attention away.

This takes skill.

I am clumsy with the blade. It is unfamiliar to me, I feel like I'm trying to learn to paint or draw.

The angle of approach, the specific depth of that part of my body, the necessary pressure to achieve the correct result.

The depth of the wound varies too much, the lack of blood in a particular stroke frustrates me and builds the tension, the insistence of the urge. There is no sense of adept familiarity as I drag it across my flesh.

Perhaps one day it will be as routine as cutting out a line, nearly always neatly uniform and infinitely replicable, regardless of my level of impairment.

Undeniably I find the visual result captivating, arresting, erotic. To become a canvas is a special thing.

Whenever I have attempted to learn to draw before, the uncertainty of where to start has made me hesitant.

I have no such hesitation when I work on this medium, it feels natural.

The key to developing any skill is repetition.

Sucking at something is the first step to being kind of good at it.

While others studied the blade, I studied the debit card.

[artemisthorn]

[artemisthorn]

everybody knows that tranny blood is a great lubricant, socially, politically, sexually. everybody knows that human sacrifice works. cities were built. empires. banners raised under which marched legions. under any flag, every flag. even under the concept of flags. everybody wants to see it, just one more time, just once. then we can stop. we can stop. but its time to die, faggot. we need to save civilisation. again

[artemisthorn]

LET’S HAVE A CONCLAVE

[artemisthorn]

the embrace zine is finally complete! thank you so much to everyone who participated ! <3

@findingtarshish, @the-camden-chantry @carrotconnoisewer  @crownedinmarigolds Vern Christie  @leechlovely @ollianderr @vinzred  @wizzsp  @itshypnos-is @kyschr @dykeferatu @socialprawn @how-grimm  @skaerdir @jasina85, @problemsynth  @cryptobafflin @snjorvasaris

1/2 of the pages under the cut!

[artemisthorn]