#bloodburial

[csmeanerr]

(Zipperguts) LMBO anon thinking this is new. Skunkblood/bloodburial/snowburial/whatever the fuck they go by now always did this and still doesn’t, they recycle designs and palettes and markings constantly, you’ve seen 5 designs from them you’ve seen them all. They just shit out the same 5 patterns and palettes on different linearts and try flog them off for as much as they can, make new species and dump them the moment they stop rolling in the initial hype cash. They’ve been doing this for YEARSSSS.

post related

they also make dekudogs

[assombrire]

@bloodburial

THAT SOMEONE WOULD  assault him under cover of darkness wasn’t surprising in and of itself; humans were prone to that sort of thing, for any sort of reason including that they simply felt like doing so. What had been surprising was, aside from the usual pain that accompanied such an act, that Sebastian had been caught entirely unaware. It had been so sudden that he hadn’t done more than kneel from shock, bleeding from the newfound puncture in his abdomen -- and perhaps that was what led his assailant to search what he thought was a dying or dead man, find nothing, and leave.

Had he expected money? Valuables? Laughable.

Less so was the fact that no matter how he willed it, the wound was not closing up in an instant, as it should have for something so simple as this. Instead he leaned against the wall, seated, one white glove slowly blossoming into crimson as it remained pressed over the injury. The sight would have incited a certain sort of fury were he not so suddenly exhausted. How peculiar.

What had these scientists done, indeed.

Still, it seemed as though the wound was beginning to knit itself together, albeit at an excruciatingly slow pace. There was little else for him to do but sit and wait (at least he didn’t require sleep), and while Sebastian would have preferred to do so in peace, the presence of another visitor made that highly unlikely. A young girl in the shadows, watching him bleed like some sort of idiot human.

<<Young ladies should be at home in their beds at this hour.>> A bit of staring ensues; not all his senses have been whittled down to naught.

<<Though I also suspect you are not truly a young lady. Forgive me if I happen to be wrong this once.>>

[isolaradiale]

hello, i'm apping sunako kirishiki from shiki. this (bloodburial) is the same blog she was on!

Welcome to scenic Isola Radiale, Sunako!

You will be housed in HOUSE 108.

You will retain all power and weapon unlocks!

– mod altair.

[nocturnirea]

@bloodburial | GHOSTS WITH US

THE TOME FELL CLOSED AND HIS HAND TRACED THE COVER, a frown grew on his face in dissatisfaction at today’s progress. He upturned notes and sought his desk for something to work on. What rolled from below parchments over the old oak wood stopped against the closed tome and he grasped it with a low hum. He stood up from his chair and turned his attention to the living room where the Shiki waited for Vlad to return. It didn’t seem like he’d come back any time soon, having left urgently for something.

The Count entered with an idea on his mind, his approach announced by the noise of steps and shuffle of cloth against the carpet.

          “YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR QUITE SOME TIME NOW. I DOUBT HE WILL RETURN BEFORE THE BREAK OF DAWN. DO YOU INTEND TO CONTINUE WAITING OR WOULD YOU LIKE TO ACCOMPANY ME INTO THE NIGHT? I’D LIKE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING. PERHAPS HE’LL BE BACK BY THE TIME WE RETURN. ”

[transl0cating-a-blog]

𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲: ⚜ (𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙰𝙺𝙾 𝙺𝙸𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙺𝙸)   ：// ＡＣＣＥＰＴＩＮＧ．

“I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ɪs ᴇϙᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴛᴇʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ.”

for @bloodburial

[utilfredse-blog]

you're a disgusting little man

     “Oh, believe me. I’m quite aware.”

[batomette]

✎ ?

“quick sketch” my ass // meme accepting

i watched shiki a while ago and i never finished it and i want to try for her

[presidentking-blog1]

     District Delta. ... Really a dank place, wasn’t it? But so far, all of these underground districts as they call them were pitiful. It was astonishingly, really. Forget living in the streets of New York-- try living in one of these dismal abodes. Sure they offered you a ‘house’ (or rather, a hut) and certainly you had furnishings, but... it was, without a doubt, less than ideal compared to living in those tall, glorious apartment complexes.

After having eventually settled down in his home, the man couldn’t help but find his own District Beta to be lacking in it’s own right, which brought up the question as to what the rest of these districts looked like, leading to an expedition to explore and observe them all. And so far, while varied, Edison... wasn’t particularly impressed.

And in particular, this felt like he was living in an underground ancient society! It almost felt like an adventure to him-- until he realized that, for many, this was simply a part of their life.

The ease of access here in Delta was also horrid. Not even an elevator? Really?

“Hardly put any effort into renovating this area,” Edison mutters to himself as he scans his surroundings-- pausing, then, as he notices someone staring at him. “Hm? Who goes there? Show yourself-- for I am... oh! A child? My apologies, dear!”

“I couldn’t quite tell at first glance, you see!”

     His lion face warmed up into a bright and fuzzy beam, and the man approached the Sunako, who had been in a corner near to him. He squats down on one knee to address her.

“Are you alright? Where is your mommy and daddy?” 

     Although he continues to smile, the tinge of concern in his voice is noticeable.

@bloodburial

[arbitratore-blog]

@bloodburial >> SECTOR FOUR >>  starter call !

on an evening when the storm clouds had overlooked much of the city and the rain had tapped endlessly upon the shutters, a scream had torn through the night. it wasn’t a subtle, playful sort often rasping from the throats of an overexcited young girl in the arms of her lover, playing tag upon the smooth streets below the apartment windows, but a scream which echoed and shook all those who heard it, a scream of a man most likely, for the deep contours of his voice did rumble the nerves quite a bit. it was just two single bursts, like a warning fire from a coastguard or a heavy knock upon an oaken door. one. two. then silence. an echoing, nervous silence. i remember the sound so well, well enough that just recalling it causes my bones to shake just a little, a partial and fleeting reminder of my own mortality. sherlock holmes, however, did not react with the sudden rise from his chair as i had, did not gaze wildly from the window, fingers pressed against the glass as if he could see through the thick fog beyond. he remained perfectly seated, fingers tented beneath his chin and bright eyes narrowed in focus. 

it was an unsettling sight, given a scream for help had just rung out. movement in the flat above suggested that we were not alone in playing audience to the noise. the sound of a window opening, doors slamming, people muttering in the garden below. we certainly were not privately privy to the occurrence. but holmes remained patient in his ways, eyes still honed in upon the table before him long after the hairs upon my neck settled themselves. i watched, sure the cogs of his mind were spinning quite feverishly. for this was not the first time such a scream had sounded so close to the building, the same awful type of scream that causes your blood to pump ever more feverishly. “ the third this week... isn’t it? “ no response. the first came but a few days prior, the second the night after that and now... the third day, we had heard another. i could only hope that come the next evening, we would not need to listen out quite so intensely for something so horrible. 

“ and you are quite certain of it? it wasn’t merely a trick of the light. an alcohol-infused daydream, perhaps? “ holmes noted down upon his pad, before glancing up to seek an answer to his question.

>>> “ yes, mr holmes. quite certain. i can still see it whenever i close my eyes... the dark, black of her eyes..... the purple of her hair... the red...oh god the red.... dripping... death.... “ 

the woman pressed her palms to her face, as if attempting to silence the vision. her body trembled like a falling autumnal leaf, drifting and shaking so violently that holmes leaned forward to push the glass of water towards her. 

“ drink. you said before that she was a little girl, yes? age unsure... but girl specifically? how curious. “ 

>>> “ yes mr. holmes, believe me, it’s the truth! “

why, it almost sounded like the plot of some americanised horror movie. a possessed girl with dark eyes, crimson blood pooling within her mouth. all that lacked was the obvious television set from which to crawl through. a rather ridiculous means of travel, but it got the message across at least. he wondered, just for a moment, whether these paranormal activities were to bother him daily. not that he didn’t enjoy debunking spooky stories conjured by mentally.... unwell, inhabitants of the city, but he sought true crime after all. not the fantasies scripted by weary souls. and yet, something about this case -- the case of the hollow-eyed girl -- struck his fancy in such a way that he leaped to his feet and brandished his pocket watch. “ eleven fourty nine was the given time, you say? the very same moment the screams shake the city! down to the minute at that! then there’s not a moment for me to spare. come now, go and return to your room and i shall offer you my final report on the morrow. come now, mrs. smith. “ 

the woman looked quite beside herself, grasping her bag and her brolly before being ushered out of the apartment suite. she went to protest, perhaps to ask whatever the detective thought would come from approaching the scene himself, but after three late night screams and now this incredible tale, he just had to see it all for himself! the terror of the sector, the mystery of the lavender lady! by the time that mrs. smith had finished her under-breath ramblings of mr. holmes’ rather ‘ rude nature ‘, the detective in question had already thread his arms through the coat, pocketed his tobacoo box and slipped his walking cane firmly within his grasp. he sped past the doorman without so much as a ‘ goodnight ‘ and sped off into the night, three clicks sounding as he went at his rushed pace. the night air was colder than usual, the splatters of rain gleaming against the thick of his coat as he went, alas he was not yet put off by the state of the crummy weather. in fact, he didn’t mind at all. 

he reached the supposed area of the sector in really no time at all, and what he found was... silence. a cruel, mocking silence which caused him to turn his head this way and that. “ damn. “ he cursed beneath his breath, the air silver before his lips. he walked towards a rather suspicious alleyway, his shoes echoing as he walked, the streetlamps glossy with their electric glow. it was only until he reached the end of the walkway, that he spied a figure misshapen and strewn upon the alley floor, like a rag doll tossed aside to lie upon her own limbs. immediately, sherlock dipped to a crouch and pressed an un-gloved finger against the man’s neck. a cold patch of skin greeted him, but a sign of life did not. “ dead. “ he reached back into his pocket for the watch, only to find his eyes narrowing at the sight. “ and yet, the time is but only eleven forty two. “ something was different, some variable had changed. no scream had sounded and something ominous hung about the air like an invisible thread, waiting to be grabbed. and yet, as holmes rose to his feet, he remained almost acutely unaware of the presence which accompanied him, the unseen other whom his eyes had yet to fall upon. 

could it be.... the lavender lady? 

[nigenteki]

return the slab or suffer my curse

[nocturnirea]

@bloodburial | TRICK OR RETREAT

THE CROSS LOOMED OPPRESSIVELY, and what it represented answered neither to pleads nor screams. It was not a symbol of sacrifice out of love, rather it was loving to sacrifice. No God nor Savior was listening to these pitiful pleas for help, ( only a devil who turned his back on them. ) The lights fell through the stained windows on his pale skin and the shadows he threw stretched beyond the rows of pews. 

          “THERE IS NO REASON TO CRY, CHILD.”

Statues of angels wept with her, yet he deemed them undeserving of her company. He walked up to her and placed with care a hand on her shoulder. His lips formed into a disapproving scowl and his proximity spent no warmth but he was there. The sole solace for the damned and the eternal, the least he could do as the father of the night was to see after its children. 

[csmeaner]

(Aphex) Didn’t cryptickoi also create a zipper item immediately after bloodburial created zipperguts? I know it isn’t very original of an idea but the timing was most definitely interesting… Especially seeing as cryptickoi owns a Zippergut as well. I wonder where else cryptickoi sources her 8000 item ideas from, because clearly they do not come from her own mind.

whatever hill youre willing to die on

[earthenwill-blog]

alright, I figured i might as well put out a little notice-- i’ll be leaving on a trip for a week for my mother’s wedding, so the rest of my replies and starters will be on hold! those on my starter call or are waiting, i’ll be getting to them soon after i return, so thank you for your patience and sorry for the hold up!

this notice goes for @necronomiconed, @bloodburial, and @sochosan as well!

have a great week everyone!!

[isolaradiale]

hello! unfortunately, my muse has drifted away for the time being, so for now i'd like to drop sunako kirishiki from shiki. she was housed in house 108!

Dropped!

-- mod spica