#CW: implied suicide

[fivewholeminutes]

A Series of Small Offerings

PART ONE -8- The Way That You Were

To tear that knife from what once / Would have been dead fingers

I have. Struggled a lot with this one, but I am glad it is done. I've had this idea rotating in my brain for a month and I have tried starting it at least 3 times both traditionally and digitally before I decided to turn it into a cut out, because I feel the most confortable making cut outs, actually.

HUGE, ENORMOUS shotout to @copper-sands / @ancientbygone for being my hand anatomy expert!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Without it this piece would look way worse <3

[sonicexelle-junkary]

If somebody had managed to escape the rot. Is there a way for the rot to hunt them down? Basically if you manage to escape and hide, is it just inevitable that it would find you? Or is there hope left that you won't die to the rot and instead die in some other way? (I assume it'd be hard to sustain hiding like that, especially if you don't know what your doing)

CW: implied suicide

Eventually everything will be consumed.

But, if you don’t want to be consumed by it. Then you’ll need to find yourself a weapon…

And use it

[the-herdier]

Jean coping (or not coping) with the loss of his partner in an AU where Harry never wakes up...

Him feeling responsible for what happened and thinking about how he might have saved him had he stayed.

Him trying to deny his pain by telling everyone he doesn't care, the drunken bastard was taking the fast lane to Hell anyways, but it's plain to see on his face.

Him saying something like "You just had to fuck me over one last time, didn't you? Fucking shitkid." to Harry's headstone/urn.

[rotten-dog-teeth]

I'm absolutely brainrotting over how horrific humans are

• We are not bipedal. We are quadrupedal. We forced our bodies out of shape just for the sake of going against god. Our legs are bent out of shape, our hip joints have been forced outwards at unusual angles, our spines - necks and backs - have been contorted into flimsey spring-like structures to support our poorly distributed amalgamation of flesh and bone, pur extremities have been elongated, compressed and re-framed to fit our new whims.

• We manipulated everything. Will said in that episode about the woman abducting yhe kids to try to make a family that as a survival instict, we have to bond with our captors otherwise we're breakfast. That's what we did to literally fucking everything. Animals are naturally scared of us. We think that animals are scared because they are ignorant, but they are scared because they are smarter than us because they see us for what we really are: abominations and monsters. They either get docile and cozy with us to become our companions so we dont kill them or they try to avoid us or hell even fight us but if they havent been domesticated then they're fucking dead meat. And cozying up to us is not a sure fire way of survival. We pick and choose who we domesticate. Dogs and cats, yeah. Rats and pigeons, we kill them or at the very least banish them. And even being domesticated is not a sure fire way of survival. We forcibly change their biology to be dependent on us and then routinely abuse or neglect them, or pit them against eachother, or ignore them, or "accidentally" let them loose to take another domestic's life. We are manipulators. We don't train animals, we manipulate them. We trick them into thinking we're safe, and don't let them realise until it's too late. Humans aren't the top of the foodchain. We're not the apex predator. We're humans. We're fucking horrors. And nothing we could ever come up with in any book, film, show, etc could ever come close to the horrific god-killing creation that is a human "being".

• We have such a comprehensive specrum and magnitude scale of emotion that our brains try to self-destruct to quell it. We feel too much love or care? Our instict is to crush/squeeze it to death. We feel too sad? Our instict is to tear ourselves apart piece by piece or just outright blunt force ourselves into peace.

• We are so fucked up that our brains actively come up with ways to supress, control or just outright kill us. On a high place? Our instict is to jump. See something sharp or hot? Our instict is to grab/touch it. Our brains fabricate fake threats to scare us into submission - phobias, anxiety, etc.

• Our bodies are so viscerally unnatural that we are alienated from every other living thing that we know of. Not one creature has a remotely similar body to us. Our joints are bent in freakish ways, we move unlike any other thing to exist, we communicate in a million different ways in a noise that nothing else can make. We are fucking disgusting.

• Our bodies try to self-destruct to prevent us from continuing to exist. We cannot successfully give birth most of the time without lots of medical help or even being fully split open and physically separated from the foetus by other humans due to our hip to head size ratio. We are the only creature capable of choking because of the development of speech.

[fell-is-suffering]

Very, VERY ooc post rn but..

I really, really want a knife stabbed through my chest right now. Cause my dad decided to be shitty and now I feel fucked up for even wanting to get stabbed even though I know it's my damn fault for being this way. I just don't wanna be at home rn..but I don't know anyone in this god damn neighborhood and I frankly don't wanna go to them at all.

[liches-covered-in-lich]

Still very much a WIP but I really like how this looks so far so how could I not share this? :D

My Miraak is just Worms. Specifically Lurker parasites that have filled his body to the brim, removing nearly all remains of his human to turn him into a beast of Apocrypha. A sign that Mora was planning to replace him soon. :)

[randy-jade-4ever]

I told you, Cal, if you bring up that 'Dial Up' to me again, we're through. I can't live with that sort of-

oh boy artistic impression! i love callum milton angst man,,,,,,

[heyhoheroarts]

In celebration of TDIPUD have some WIP doodles

[charred-angel-ribs]

Hannibal and Will's relationship is very obviously gay, solely because the convoluted way of psychologically manipulating someone and leaving a trail of artistic and significant murders for them to find and decode, getting them to follow you around, getting them to build an obsession and reliance on you, all to climax up to being eachother's demise, pulling eachother over the edge, intertwined in eachother's arms until the bitter end, all before you manage to get the balls to ask then out on a date or tell them you like them.

That's gay.

[rotten-dog-teeth]

OH OH OH FUN FACT TIME!!

So, the reason you get this inexplicable urge to squeeze something/someone you find particularly cute or one you love very much is because the human brain is very simple and will always try to take the easiest way out of a situation (which is also why you have a little metaphorical voice in the back of your head telling you to jump when on a high place, because your brain sees it as the easiest way out of that situation). And when you feel emotions that strong, the brain sees it as unnatural, and therefore decides that the thing/person causing it must be dangerous, and so its natural response is to tell you to squeeze it as hard as you can to kill it. Squeeze the life our of it. So yeah, humans are wack /lh /gen

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

[zuala-bear]

Found a song, drew a gal! (feat. The reference + the wip).

[sarcasticmothdraws]

We love thinking about the scenario where you're pissed off at your sibling but don't want to think about the uncertainty that they might think that you're dead, they killed you, and you don't know if they could cope with that guilt or not.

[wereshrew-admirer]

for a moment brnine thought they’d finally done something right, but then they realize they’re still alive

an extremely delayed secret samol gift for grace<3

alt text below

45 seconds of animation(+10 seconds of credits)

brnine and dahlia stand in a sunny but lifeless approximation of a livingroom. one of the windows is a map of all divinity that blinks. dahlia gestures at flashes of space battles, brnine slowly reaches into a pocket of their cargo pants.

brnine and dahlia, close up, stand in front of the map, but brnine’s reflection has been replaced with an image of valence glowing and angry. the glass begins to break and the camera pans to dahlia, whose reflection is crysanth, bloodied and snarling.

an excerpt of brnine’s interview with continental countunghouse begins to play when the camera cuts to brnine alone in the stellar combuster room. lights flash and they crouch down to pick up a tangle of wires on the floor.

a closup of the wires in their hands flashes between integrity, bloody, and valences arm opened for maintenance. their hands tighten around the objects in unison as the blood from integrity drips down their wrists.

a drop of blood meets water pouring into a glass, mixing into a the bright lavender that has been used to represent valence throughout.

brnine’s hand lifts the glass and behind it are gur sevraq and valence having a discussion. they rotate and valence fades away, leaving only gur sevraq who turns and looks at brnine while The Figure sits up in front of them, revealing that it was a recording or a ghost the whole time.

tears drip down the figure’s concrete face. the tears become sweat dripping down brnine’s face as they finish their interview, awkwardly finishing a glass of water before grimacing and waving, “hi mom, i guess”

[temnayajija]

day 15 self-inflicted 😣

а граж.оборона прикольная группа)

[wyrdle]

A very important phone call

Quick doodly comic. I had some ideas about Marceline contacting Simon at the finale episode. Something something reaching out to your suicidal loved ones. The sweater thing was just to pull back to episode 2, when Simon helps re-stitch Marceline's dress button.

For reference:

[crystallizsch]

🐍: —?! Prefect, is everything alrigh-

💜: Don’t- say anything. Please.

(oh lore? below the cut?)

(cw: nightmares, implied death/suicide <- ONLY AT THE END) — 800+ words — I DIDNT REALIZE IT WAS THIS LONG???

━━━━━━✦

the vice housewarden of scarabia, jamil viper, didn't think he'd be bringing the ramshackle prefect to stay over at his room, and much to his roommate's confusion. then again, the roommate knew better than to question his choices.

it was the end of the day and the vice housewarden was on his way back to his dorm after a late-night errand.

what he didn’t expect was the ramshackle prefect coming out of the shadows and tackling him in a hug.

jamil almost threw down the unassuming prefect out of instinctual self-defense.

but the prefect gripped his back as if she was holding on for dear life— quivering, her head buried in his shoulders, holding back sobs, profusely apologizing over and over and over-

“sorry, sorry, sorry—“

the prefect said she had a nightmare.

jamil just froze, entirely confused.

all this because of a dream? what is the prefect even apologizing for other than whatever this is.

━━━━━━✦

jamil didn’t really know what to make of all of this, but it was hard not to pity the state the prefect was in.

pity. that’s the right word.

he only clarified to himself because the word, concern, briefly passed his mind.

it was not concern. why would he be concerned?

and if it weren’t for pity, jamil would have been annoyed instead. he had to admit, he didn’t know which would have been the worse approach, even though he opted for the former.

plus, this was a side to the prefect that the vice housewarden had not seen before.

vulnerable.

very vulnerable.

as if her walls finally fell. and jamil was able to bear witness behind it.

to choose whether or not to step inside those walls is up for debate in his mind.

no, stop it. not again. there was no point in involving himself more with the prefect this time.

jamil could have walked her back to ramshackle. but they were already in the mirror room, and he didn’t feel like making that trek.

or he might have been too tired and too dumbfounded to think.

yeah, those were jamil's excuses.

━━━━━━✦

it’s not like the ramshackle prefect, yuusha tala, understood either. how this all went down.

why the first person she beelined towards was the one who played a part in her nightmare.

why she felt comfort at his mere presence despite recoiling the moment she looks into his eyes.

either because of fear, disgust, or… guilt?

━━━━━━✦

this phenomenon had happened before.

yuusha and ace got off on a horrible foot at the start, deuce was just another guy that got involved with them by chance, and grim was an annoying cat.

and yet, it felt like she’d known them forever despite having only known them a few months.

there was no way they were all that compatible of a friend group to end up that way.

but the soft spot she felt for all three of them was like they were longtime friends in another life.

and now it’s this… bastard. the one yuusha fell head over heels at first only to feel used and betrayed.

why she keeps giving pretty guys a chance like this is beyond her. yuusha knows she won’t learn her lesson for the foreseeable future, however.

━━━━━━✦

in any case, the prefect finds herself resting on the scarabia vice housewarden’s bed when she could have suggested resting in one of the empty rooms instead. to not trouble him any further.

oh wait. jamil could have brought her to another empty room instead. there’s no way that didn’t cross his mind.

did he assume that would bring up memories?

if so, why would he even care?

the scarabia lounge would have been an alternate choice as well. but would it have been considered rude to put a guest there? even though yuusha wouldn’t have mind?

well. that’ll be a topic for another day.

━━━━━━✦

so the night was pretty uneventful. other than the awkwardness.

wait, actually— jamil wanted to bring up how the prefect had the habit of hugging things in her sleep.

namely him.

even when unconscious, the prefect can’t respect personal space.

but then that would bring up the obvious fact that jamil could have easily woken her up and quietly tell her off. and that he didn’t.

because for some strange reason, jamil felt an odd sense of comfort in her warm yet crushing embrace. and thus pretended not to have known instead.

━━━━━━✦

what was the nightmare, so to speak?

yuusha barely remembered all the details.

except for the feeling of the cold wind tearing through her skin, gravity violently pulling her down—

—and the final, haunting vision of a desperate hand reaching out to her, with an intensely horrified look flashing from charcoal grey eyes.

eyes that belong to none other than jamil viper.