#Below the Horizon

[boxthoughtsblog]

My Sky Today - January 12, 2023 6:11pm Hawaii Join the MY SKY TODAY project!

[muki-loves-you]

Hi my little meow meows 😻 I have my finished ref sheet for you!!!

The one from February 💀💀💀

[amanedachi]

iron / heart

Part of LoL Esports Elemental Series.

[robo-dino-puppy]

horizon forbidden west | kotallo 14/?

(taller version below the cut too!)

[hypnofantasma]

NAME UPDATES

After working on my rewrites a bit, I have decided to rename the main stories of Kenopsia, as well as the overarching story itself! This came after months of thinking it over and writing things out and realizing I could make, just, better names overall.

Kenopsia is now known as HYPNOFANTASMA!

It's a name I came up with long ago, and I feel its whimsy fits a lot better. Stands out a bit more to me.

As for the other major story part names...

To Be Forever is now known as The Epic of Synchros.

Event Horizon is now known as Mindless Paradise.

Stars Below gets no rename, it already got its rename a while back. It's all good!

Corpse Eyes is now known as Terminal Cycle.

To Be the Last is now known as End-Time Honor.

I'll be updating blog names and info (and maybe actually finally answering stuff) today. You can use old tags as legacy tags if you want, I don't mind! And I hope you guys also like these renames! :]

[venacoeurva]

I remembered those sweater dresses existed, hence this couple’s photo

Also the upside down sea sunset is a motif with Kurk, probably gonna be a symbol for him?

-Please do not reupload, edit, or use.-

[permanentlylatetotheparty]

two people who have been "managing" their CEO for too, too long

[hypnofantasma-asks-and-doodles]

new name lol ANYWAY!!!! wanted to use this blog to also post the not-as-big drawings and stuff. here's a batch of traditional sketches i did the other day because i hadn't drawn traditionally in YEARS and i had an itch for it

[grimscrossing]

Candida's shops and its junkyard

[snackugaki]

... welcome to “snackugaki openly plots murder” weekend

[mushyroomyducks]

my cubito is finally dead I’m so happy I have been waiting for this for months:D

[supermarket-goblin]

Hi, I will never not be enamoured by Frankenstein by The Mechanisms.

[loadedberetta]

red - soap x reader

summary: he told you to move on. (1.2k)

warnings: (let's fucking do this;) angst, SPOILERS for the MW3 Campaign, main character death, mentions of blood, and wounds on reader, mentions of sex, reference to suicide (just one sentence, a thought), stages of grief

a/n: I wrote this teary-eyed on the 2nd of November after spoiling the ending for myself. I honestly don't know if I could have handled this raw. this is my way of working through the grief. I'd say enjoy, but this is nothing but unfiltered angst

You'd moved on.

Safer to say, moved out.

You haven't moved on.

The cathartic year you spent with him will always have a place in your heart, even if he himself doesn't anymore.

You forgot when exactly Kyle called; time after it was a muddled concept for a while.

"I thought you… thought you should know."

Tears streamed down your cheeks the moment you felt his voice shake as he said a weak "hi" through the phone.

At least now you knew.

And nothing else.

-

He mentioned it once.

"You know…"

You were laying in bed, some nature documentary on the telly about lions and leopards.

He was stroking your hair and placed a kiss on the top of your head. You were hugging him with both hands, your fingertips bumping against clawmarks on his back.

You had fought and made up barely an hour before. Tensions still stiffened his boy beneath your strained one.

He lifted your head with his shoulder.

"Look a' me." And you did. Through skepticism, you did. "I want you to know something."

He'd moved in the month before. He was the one who brought the telly from his old flat.

"I don't know what'll happen to us. What time will bring…"

You nodded. The fragility of your relationship set you on edge every waking moment, smearing the edges of your reality ever so slightly, more and more with each passing day.

You both knew it was something futile.

You both were.

"…I." He cleared his throat. It rumbled through you too. "If I- if I don't come home one time-"

"No, Johnny." You sat up, cold air hitting your shoulder that was nestled beside him a moment before. His hands fell from holding you. Your arm was tingling.

"Yes. I need you t' know this."

You sighed. His eyes pleaded.

Heartstrings tugged. You knew he wasn't the right fit. And he did too, you assumed. This was never meant to be something big.

Words preached by a friend echoed in your friend every now and then; date to marry.

But whatever this was, it was never supposed to be this much. It wasn't true puppy love. Just comfort, good sex and anxiety, that somehow ended up being exclusive, to the point of you asking him to move in.

And the worst part was that he agreed. He knew he shouldn't have, and now he was explaining to you what he'd like you to do, would he not make it home once.

Only one mistake away from the Father, he knew that.

Your eyes searched his, illuminated occasionally by a wide shot of the African wilderness.

He didn't actually know if you had said anything more.

"Don't mourn me, okay?"

"How am I supposed to do that?" You spat back at him almost instantly, a knot forming in your throat at the threat of him being gone; a reminder of your stupidity to attach yourself to him.

He remained calm, stoic even. If that moment came just then. He would have been ready.

"I can't ignore it, if--"

"Don't 'ignore it', bonnie." He smoothed a hand over your trembling arm supporting your position on the bed. "Move on, move out, move away, wha'ever you need to do."

That didn't help. Not at all.

Neither of you was wiser.

"Keep what you want, dump the rest, just… Move on."

Your lips curled downwards as he spoke, quiet and neutral. You were almost offended.

It was never supposed to be this much. You were not supposed to grow attached. You wouldn't have needed an encouragement to move on, if you wouldn't have become stuck with him.

It was his voice you started missing first. When he was deployed, he'd send you voice messages. His laugh was something to live for. Something to die for.

He felt you needed it. He knew it was coming, sooner or later. God was going to cut him down. It couldn't have gone any other way.

Yet, still, there he was, doing what he promised himself he'd never do.

-

He fell for those lips, that mouth, that face, that specific tone she used, those muscle movements he observed and saved in his mind for when had to lay in position for twelve hours on a stakeout. He also fell for that compassion, that fierce unbridled essence of life she carried. That he always strived to have, always strived to earn, achieve. That came to her naturally. Because death didn't loom over her head like the Executioner's ax did over his.

-

Kyle mentioned there was no grave.

Nothing much to remember him by, except for old clothes and meaningless trinkets you soon deposited to a garage you two rented for the stuff after his move. The one he occasionally visited after the breakup.

"Could you take his stuff? Back to base, or wherever..." You hiccuped the sentences out.

Kyle didn't say anything for a moment, only his breathing was audible through the speaker.

"Yeah, sure." Pause. "Want me to come by?"

"I'll give you the passcode to the garage."

You bit at a nail.

"You don't want to… okay."

Kyle sighed again. Apart from distant family, it was him you knew from among friends, colleagues. He was a good lad. You met him once when he came by to pick up Johnny. It was eight months into the relationship.

Four months before you broke up, and six before Kyle called.

Two days passed.

You left the door unlocked for both those nights, uncaring towards what else could come through them.

But nothing did. Nobody did.

He hadn't lived with you for the past two months. You didn't know where he was. What he was up to.

Why did Kyle call, you started asking yourself the day after.

Questions swirled around in your head, desperately searching for an out that would never truly arrive.

He wasn't part of your life anymore. But you wished him to be. If that was the price you had to pay for him to come back, you would have.

The following day, Kyle called again.

You didn't pick up.

You tried to escape it, to now avail.

You put on a nature documentary that night, and fell asleep to it, crying yourself to sleep.

-

-

Moving on isn't as easy as they describe it to be.

There aren't really steps or phases. There's one unending piece of string that tugs on you from behind and leads the way at the same time. The white thread snaking in front of you, the thin material growing undiscernible with distance. And when hardship hits and you thrash around, it weaves you in. Sometimes cutting into flesh and even bone, constricting around your throat and letting you trip on it when the weave gets rough.

You can stop and unite it.

But you rather keep walking, string tightening around you, drawing blood that the strand soaks up.

And it's too late before you realize it's constricting around your heart and making your legs stick together, finally making you fall.

You have no other option but to stay still, breathe, and let it loosen. You can start untying it yourself the white threat turned red, leaving permanent marks on your skin.

It hurts, ripping it out of old wounds, as the skin has started healing around it, eventually accepting the string into its weave.

You've contemplated cutting it, a scissor always hangs by your side.

When you finally become unable to move, tangled as if in a spiderweb dripping in the arachnid's vile, you start wriggling yourself free. It hurts like hell.

Months pass, blood coagulates.

It's a hellish fight, slow as agony, as finger by finger, limb by limb, you untie the knots.

And then, one day you can move again.

Years pass, scars lighten.

…and you run your hand across a new piece of string disappearing into nothingness, white as innocence. Dried blood chips off your fingers as you do.

And you take the first step forward, trailing string behind you that's red and littered with stubborn knots.

But you're moving on.

a/n: tissues, anyone? this is my last post about mw3 for the foreseeable time, I'm going to blatantly ignore the fact that this game exists. I just needed to work through this with writing. thank you for engaging with this piece, my job is complete if it brings an inkling of conclusion to anyone.

[robo-dino-puppy]

some out-of-bounds views in the far zenith launch facility

[hypnofantasma]

The Water Channels

Many Kraizenian buildings, especially with Beltasian-styled architecture, are plentiful with these water channels. You can walk, wade, swim, slither, or simply float about in these channels; no matter if you're traveling through it like a small road, or merely lounging about with your friends to relax. They come in all sizes to account for all sizes of Kraizen.

Special water-lights, made from crystals, can sort of give the illusion of dyed water; that way, the water stays perfectly pristine and clean, but can appear colored depending on what room or channel it's currently flowing through. These colored water channels often make the water reds, greens, blues, purples, oranges, grays, and pinks, depending on what the general local aesthetic is. However, the water is **never** made black; for that is the color of blood.

Decor like gently glowing lights, fogs, plants, engravings, pottery, statues, and the like are extremely common on the dry floors. The floors of the water channels are often tiled, and sometimes, they have mosaics in the tiling that shift and dance with the water's flow.

The vibes of these areas may remind one of liminality; rooms and channels full of water intended to walk through, dyed unnatural yet soothing colors under lights of all sorts, and often quiet and lonely if you aren't there with some friends.

[hzdtrees]

Beaches