mementomori42069

[mementomori42069]

Oc writting for Cassion :3

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏﹏﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hodie Mihi, Cras Tibi

Towns and kingdoms that lined edges of forest were warned to stay weary of what lied beyond the brush and floral. Not due to creatures of night or even mystical beings that were rumored to take away the innocence of those belonging, but instead of fear of the hidden kingdom inside. All of that wich was sought to be driven to madness once within was soon proven wrong as the previously bat calling areas of clarity now shown with blue birds singing inviting songs towards what lied at the center.

A kingdom full of woes now sung with ballads of purity grace to a wise woman who had slaughtered the old king sang in a flur of drunken bards and civilians. A lady who was said to be beautiful and bring good will to all she reigned over, but the truth lied deeper than the song sang poems could explain.

Cassion himself, sat within a tavern he used to frequent as a common now sat closer to the center crowned in not hold but ale aswell. Laughing briskly with others while pondering thanks to the before mention lady he kept quiet to himself, being the only one whom knew the hands in which the kings blood stained.

Gloves always bore on his hands, the same ones that had been leaking with feared truth now grasping the handle of a mug now raised within the air. The gloved hands that shakily grasped a sword now waving in the air in song. The gloved hands that took life now singing a birth.

Twas nothing the bards had to know, as far as cassion knew and was aware. He would continue to praise the lady they sang of, singing with the same lips that sang even a ballad of death. Laughing with the same mouth as those inside the tavern drifted home, yet instead of following in the footsteps of those he awed he turned his boots to walk along the tracked steps of the king.

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[mementomori42069]

Mors my SON

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May or may not have forgotten I have a Tumblr...

ANYWAYS oc drawing I did a while back that I still adore :3

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Some Littles doodles of my characters that I like 😋

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New character Lucian! My silly little morally grey detective

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Are we rocking with the art style practice

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Commissions are now... open!! My discord is the same as my user if interested

Prices may change if a design is super complex 😓

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Sunday drawing in honor of me getting him today!!!

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New chatacter so yall know what that means!! More stories!!

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Cold. That's what the room was. That's what it always was. Nothing had moved its place since the death of the only one he found comfort within, and the only place that had brought so much grief within. Even the blankets that surrounded the silver-haired individual felt more like sheets of ice, never once warming him. Never comforting. Never reassuring. The echos of lights that strayed through the closed blinds only cast blankets darker than the shadows that poured from underneath the wooden banners that held a mattress, now sunken in with time.

A sigh had left Mors, leaving a stray wind to run its course through his hair as he lay surrounded by pillows. Strands of hair that had torn themselves away from the tucked form of his head moved in rhythm with the air that swept across Mors, causing him to huff an annoyed sigh and turn. The bed creaked as he rolled, keeping his arms tightly secure around his chest to face the door of his room, the only entry and exit to the barren wasteland forgotten by most where Mors had resided.

Not much had gone through his head as he lay there, in truth, nothing had ever really passed through to be an understandable excuse for the way he had chosen to rot himself away. Even before his mother's passing, she had always cared for the young boy, even if through the future years she had shoved him away. Perhaps his father? No… not his father. His father hadn't done anything to render this either. The worst act Mors’ Father had brought upon the boy was merely ignoring his life. Mors knew his mother, she loved him. When she was alive she loved him and he knew it. He didn't care who had spoken otherwise, he never once believed the acts of physical aggression and and harsh spoken words from her normally sweet voice were to hurt him. She was hurting, he thought. She was hurting and Mors was helping by not acting poorly towards her. Every hand cast upon Mors was nothing more than his mother asking for a way to bleed the dismay she felt into the heart of himself, sharing the fear.

The sound of the silent buzz in the room seemed more deafening than any shout his father had berated towards him. It was almost sickening how loud the silence was. Mors would prefer anything other than the sound of his own thoughts, the disgusting thoughts that left him bedridden for days on end for once again a reason even he could not name himself. It was almost pathetic how much Mors was left in such trenches for something he couldn't explain.

“Just talk to someone! Vent your issues!” He had always been told

Talk about your issues…. How? How was he supposed to bleed the same way his mother did when his mother had already done the bleeding for him? The words he spoke he felt would never be his own. He felt as if he was living out his mother's issues himself, so he didn't get to be pitied the same way she had. They were his mother's issues, right? Not his. So what if his own thoughts were added in, he never once thought of himself as worthy of the comfort.

The buzz of the room never silenced even once, still retaining the yellow louder than him father's anger could even imagine. A cup stood beside his bed, untouched, left as an uncommon gift from his father first hand. Not once had his father been this kind, it left the boy confused. Perhaps he had slowly come to sympathize with him? But isn't that the opposite of what Mors had wanted? Confusion was nothing out of the ordinary for him, each time a tired sigh was all that he could muster.

A shaking hand reached out to grip the cup, pulling it slowly to Mors lips as he drank. At first he thought the water had tasted odd, But he decided to mark it as just having not have drunk water in who knows how long. The cup then remained half empty as it was placed back against the table, letting Mors rest his head against the pillow while staring at the cup. The first gesture of kindness from his father. It almost made him feel warm in a way, letting him close his eyes with a new found contentment and will to sleep.

Yeah, that's how his room felt this time. Warm.

The thing I wrote takes place when the character is younger like in the pic above, the one below is him currently!!

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Lob corp....OoOOooo

GET OUTTA MY HEADDDD /ref AAAAAAAA

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GET OUTTA MY HEADDD

Me watching my hyperfixation for lob corp spread to my friend and now it's the only thing they can think about

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Another old little writting i did for Pers because why not😗

A clock ticks, fall through the air, and land on some form of ground. These were all the same factors Pers had checked whenever his curse of an "ability" he had grown accustomed to decided where he was dropped. At some points, it seemed like clocks were mocking him as they hurled the purple haired individual from universe to universe, galaxy to galaxy, and so forth. Often, the man just wanted a break from reality even though he wasn't in a form of reality himself.

To Pers, reality was just up to whoever decided to think about it. No one's life is the same. Therefore, the way they view the world wouldn't be the same. Facts could most likely just be opinions that people seemed to agree upon, but there will always be someone who thought the opposite. This often left Pers wondering if anything was truly right or wrong. It was up to the individual, right? The way their mind works would alter the way they see everything in the world, so nothing would be the same for anyone.

A simple sigh left Pers as he walked down yet another familiar street, the same social anxiety enduring thought of being stared at by everyone crossing his mind. You'd think after traveling to so many worlds would break these feelings, but much to Pers's dismay, they never went away.

People of every kind passed him, sometimes occasionally glancing while others carried on without a care in the world of his presence. Pers was unsure of where to go. He always was when dropped in a random location. What are you supposed to do when placed in a foreign area where you know nothing and no one? Out of place was the only thing he could feel in these moments

"Out of place"

A phrase that haunted him daily and let an extra feeling of anxiety creep in. It sounds ridiculous to care so much of what people who you've never seen before care about you, but maybe it's because they don't care that's so worrying. If you were to act normally, you would go unnoticed. Yet, if you were to mess up in any way possible, you'd become a story for them to tell people later. A joke at a dinner table to make the company laugh.

Maybe the unpredictable factors were what scared him so much. Everything seemed unpredictable and out of control when these thoughts passed through. The idea of truly being remembered seemed so frightening, even if it's what most people would want.

Being remembered after your death is something entirely different from being remembered when you're alive. In death, you don't have to worry about proving yourself of value.

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Sooo I've thought about how little I really know on where to post things I write SO heres a small thing I wrote for my character Pers!!

Every day seemed to be a never-ending tossle of confusion and longing to be seen or perceived as anything but what Pers saw himself as. Pers was well aware of his own flesh and blood, sometimes to an almost concerning extent, where all he saw when looking at his own body was the cellular structure that made up his physical being. Sometimes, these thoughts began to cause him to wonder if he was even him at all in a way. It sounds strange, but if all a human is made of is cells and atoms, then what really is a 'human'?

These odd questions often drove the man mad, leaving room for hellish spirals that left him almost bedridden with the disgusted thought of his very being. The clocks that seemed to surround his mind always ticked, reminding him of the absence of decaying cells that refused to let him sleep with the stars and earth.

What a curse it was.

Days of longing for any knowledge of what the final piece of life seemed to be had constantly remained a lingering thought over his head. If you were to ask someone what the opposite of life was to be, they would often answer.

"Death."

But isn't death just another piece to life? Another aspect that would also fall into the category of, 'living?' If that was the case, what would the true opposite to living and life itself be? Pers had thought this one too many times, only ever reviving the same answer over and over or obtaining looks like would make any passer by think the man was insane and pestering an innocent bystander.

Any idea and hope of being understood by anyone seemed to fade with each star that burned out and every faint tick of a clock that existed in the many universes Pers had traveled to. Yet anytime he met someone that seemed to understand, he would resent them in a way. Almost feeling disgusted in a way he just couldn't explain. The one thing he so desperately wanted in life was also the one thing that made him want to give up once more.

Our mentally ill DIVA💜

[mementomori42069]

Redrew a freminet from the start of this year!! New one on top, old one on bottom!!

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Who wants to be the chuuya to my dazai😢

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Crona is actually me guys trust

Anyways here's some fanart that I'm to to sure how to feel about!!

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Redrew a simon from a little less than a year ago!!

Old one is this one🥳