#cw: decay

[justadeadreaper]

CW: Gore, Death, Puke, Decaying flesh, Buboes, Blood, Description of the symptoms of the different plagues in The Black Death, Gruesome description of how the representation would look like, Please tell me if anything that should be put as a warning was not, thanks.

The most feared plague in history, The Black Death.

Mainly the bubonic plague mixed with its two more deadly brothers the pneumonic plague and septicemic plague. It was the deadliest plague of the time as it ran through Europe, Africa, and Asia and conquered any village, town, and city it found itself in, flooding the streets with blood, mucus, and rotted flesh as once healthy humans dropped dead from the plague that seemed to come from nowhere before it dragged everyone to the Hell it had seemed to have spawned from. It did not care who you were, it did not discriminate, rich or poor, loved or hated, known or not, it would blow out the little life that you had. It thrived off the fear and only seemed to grow stronger as another soul joined the long chain of victims that had already succumbed to the disease. Anywhere from twenty to sixty percent of the population of the time was taken by it.

The perpetrator? Yersinia pestis. The carriers? Fleas. The spreader? Rats but some say it could have actually been hamsters that were stowaways. But how were the rats able to spread? Trading ships that jumped from town to town leaving a deadly gift as it sailed away that would lead to the death of all that were unfortunate enough to live there.

Now you may ask what would happen if you were to catch it and let me tell you it was living torture. It would start with a simple flea bite but that flea was infected with Yersinia pestis causing it to build a barrier in its stomach so no blood could be digested or go into its stomach causing it to build up and be infected by the bacteria, and this blood would be thrown back up by the flea onto the wound infecting it as it would be absorbed into the bloodstream. From entering the bloodstream it could take one of three routes: the lymphatic system, continuing through the bloodstream, or directly to the lungs. If you were lucky enough for it to infect your lymphatic system then you had a sixty percent chance of dying meaning you had a forty percent chance of surviving. Even though you had more chances of surviving it did not mean that you were saved from not suffering, from one to seven, or if you were lucky eight, days of contracting the disease was when it would show symptoms. At first it would trick you into the false belief that you only had the flu. You would have a general feeling of being ill, lethargic and weak which only grew into worse fatigue as the days went on, followed by chills and a high fever which anyone would know just seems to be like a normal cold but then that soon developed into muscle cramps in your aching limbs as seizures overtook the body. Then it would present the symptom that gave it the name the bubonic plague, buboes. These were when the lymph nodes would balloon to become large, painful, smoothe swellings which would occur near the original area of infection alongside the groin, neck, and armpits which would continue to grow until they burst. You also had the issue of your skin slowly beginning to necrotise as it died alongside the lenticulae which were small black dots that would be scattered across your body and gangrene took over your lips, nose, toes, and fingers which all caused severe pain to the point you would rather die there and then instead of waiting it out to see if you had the lucky chance of surviving. Of course there were other symptoms like heavy breathing as your lungs felt like they were being held down by rocks, your own body becoming like the flea as it would start to vomit gallons of infected blood, coughing, gastrointestinal problems, and spleen inflammation, but in some cases even the sleep would be disturbed to the point of insomnia where sleep would be impossible to get as your were forced to stay awake to feel all the pain that riddled your body. But then the worst of the systems came at the final stage as delirium came and took over any rational thought as all organs began to fail from the disease overcoming them and causing them to shut down which only led to a coma, but it all ended the same way, death.

If you were unlucky enough for it to infect your lungs first or just infect your lungs before the other systems became worse then you had a ninety-five percent chance of dying meaning you had a five percent chance of surviving. To make the pneumonic plague even worse you could develop it even after being infected by either the bubonic plague or the septicemic plague; it could also be caught from not just it infecting your lungs after a bite which infected the bloodstream but by also breathing in air borne droplets of the bacteria from another thing that was riddled with the plague. As it would normally be caught after having bubonic or septicemic plague it meant that at first you would present all the symptoms from the other plagues before experiencing the specifics of the pneumonic plague. At first you would think you have a fever but a severe one as headaches, nausea, and weakness run rampant as if it was trying to warn you that this would be no normal bubonic or septicemic plague. Luckily compared to the bubonic plague the time you would suffer with this plague was a great short, even though it would take around three to seven days before the symptoms showed as soon as the symptoms worsened or even showed you could guarantee that you would be dead within thirty-six hours, most likely less. You would be constantly vomiting for three days straight as your lungs slowly began to feel as if they were being sewn shut at each bronchus, only leading to each breath becoming shorter and shorter as you seemed to constantly be coughing and rasping for the tiniest bit of unrestrained air. Then soon enough your lungs would spew out a bloody and watery mess that would stain your tongue with its mercury taste which you would continue to cough out in between the vomiting until you went into shock as your full respiratory tract went into failure and just stopped, finally leading to death.

But if you were the most unfortunate person alive on Earth at the time that every God seemed to hate since it stayed in your bloodstream and completely infected your blood it meant you had no chance of surviving as you had a hundred percent chance of dying. It made the other two diseases seem like child’s play as it normally only took around fourteen hours before it shut down the body, worse of all it could even kill you without showing any of the symptoms. Like the others you would think it was a common cold due to the fever, chills, and low blood pressure but soon enough severe abdominal pain would set in as it felt like you were dying due to the extreme amount of diarrhea which would be accompanied by nausea that only led to severe vomiting. But soon enough the vomit and diarrhea would be filled with blood until it was fully red as the body lost most of its clotting resources from the tiny blood clots that had formed throughout the body so it could no longer control the blood which started to bleed into the skin and organs creating red or black patches of rashes or bumps which could be seen on the skin. The blood clotting also caused necrosis as tissue and organs would die from the lack of blood flow as it all leaked into where it should not, the most obvious spots of the decay were the gangrene in the fingers, nose, and toes. Then the bleeding would extend from not just bleeding in the body but blood coming out from the rectum but most noticeably the mouth and nose where it would come out like a waterfall. Obviously due to the blood leaking into everything it would cause difficulty breathing as it would fill the lungs and deprive it of the blood outside the lungs that was needed to exchange the carbon dioxide for oxygen. And with no blood to deliver the oxygen needed for the organs to live they all would go into organ failure causing the body to go into shock before the final moments where everything went back as it was taken over by death.

As it can be seen all of them had the same outcome, death.

Luckily nowadays the plagues are a simple pest if the person has access to treatment to stop it from progressing further but at the time that The Black Death ran rampant no one had the luxury of those treatments leading most to die who caught it. Masses upon masses of bodies continued to build up only attracting more of the rats then the ones that had already been attracted to the large towns by the excrement and rotting butcher’s meat that made a river through the streets. With more rats that withered away from the disease it just meant more fleas would jump to more human hosts to use which only led to more living corpses to roam the streets as the disease turned people into skeletons while still living before turning them into an actual corpse.

It was understandable as to why humans of the time would be so scared of such a thing as to them it just seemed like their fellow mortals were dropping like lowly flies that would eat away at the flyblown flesh that continued to pile away in mass graves to create more nests for their larvae and eggs to incubate inside. Imagine the terror and fear that must have filled their minds as they did not understand pathogens at the time, to them it would have seemed like divine wrath but no one could think of a reason as to why their Almighty would betray them like this as everyone appeared to be on their best behaviour. They needed something to blame. They found something to blame. 

Simple rumours turned into truths.

Somewhere in England there was said to be a village. Small, nothing of concern as it was like every other village of the time. Like every other village it had a butcher, a silent man who was rumoured to once be a knight but no one knew why he was not anymore. He tended to be quiet, avoiding others who were not his friends and family. It was said that he loved his nephew and that if he had enough swigs of barley that you could get him singing and dancing on the roof or you could convince him to give you his primest cuts of meat. He was deemed as normal, he was like everyone else, until one day.

No one knew what happened. It was supposed to be a joyous day to celebrate the coming of winter but it was far from that. Nearly the whole family was found butchered with a precision only expected to be known by a trained killer. The lower left leg and most of the fingers of the right hand of the older brother laid in a puddle of blood but they could not find the rest of his body; the mutilated body of the brother’s wife was spread around slightly from each different part as if when she was being attacked the culprit had went after another member while still holding onto the part it was hacking off; the body of their son was curled into the corner clutching onto the leg of his mother while out of the stab holes that covered his body in ten folds nearly making him unidentifiable oozed out blood into a bloody puddle that collected around his body; and finally the grandmother of the family who was found decapitated in her rocking chair with her head being found outside within the well. The only one not found dead was the butcher and when he returned, covered in blood, everyone turned their suspicions to him. When he tried to explain that he had been out hunting but had been attacked by a large grey man no one believed him, especially when they saw the crazed look within his eyes that could only be produced by when they had let Beelzebub into their soul. Everyone agreed to grab their pitchforks and chase him out so no more could be hurt.

It was only a few months before the figure started to appear across the world. People from the village murmured to other villages and beyond when they heard what the figure looked like in its earlier stage that they believed it to be the same butcher infected with the plague of Beelzebub to infect the world with their sin to bring more to Hell. Everyone believed him to be the reason for the spread of the plague. It was said that if you were to see him within the fields outside of any town, village, or city that all the inside were destined to die. 

The Ghost of The Black Death.

A figure that would strike the fear into the hearts of all.

A horde of rats followed behind him in trails as flies buzzed around his head, if he was near you would always see a Black Shuck which commanded a storm alongside it as if they were his hounds of doom brought along to give the townsfolk warning of their dire fates and to pray to the Almighty while they were still apart.

A black coat hid the majority of his body as bloodied rags of old hunting gear of a peasant hung off of skeletal remains with a jaw hanging off his neck as if it was a necklace as it was tied there with rope. Messy blonde hair spread out in all directions as blood leaked out from the tear ducts in a false mockery of the tears that millions had split in their last moments. No nose or bottom jaw could be found, decayed off long ago. The face looked skeletal as teeth, gums, and a tongue were exposed to the bitter air that reeked of death and loss as the cheeks were tattered in form as more skin continued to flake off as it continued to decays; once blue eyes so full of life were left sunken, dead as if they were another victim that had succumb to the plague that the Ghost was said to bring alongside him. A trail of buboes surrounded his neck as if it was a noose to which he could hang himself with as the tail was marked by a diversion of buboes that wrapped around and under his arms to around his groyne. His spine and ribs jutted out for all to see underneath the greyed skin which was littered with blackened patches of decay as branches of red veins leaked and bleed out to leave a path of blood in his wake for all to track him by. Still, as he rotted away, vague faints of the muscular body that had been far gone from its prime lingered where it once remained. The bottom of his calves with his feet and the bottom of his forearms with his hands had turned black and mummified from the decay and gangrene that had taken them over, leaving no remaining sensations within the hands to feel the warmth of a human ever again for the rest of eternity.

If you were to see him late at night, staring into your soul you better pray that The Ghost does not turn you into another soul like him.

[adlamu]

i just wanted to put my washing out on the line !!!!

[sercezgazety]

The Emperor's Two Bodies

There are two separate bodies that the Emperor has. One is very old and fragile. With every passing day, it becomes more fatigued, losing the fight against the curse. This body’s joints ache when the weather changes and ache when it doesn’t. It requires palismen to keep its form. It doesn’t lack any teeth, but that’s rather unfortunate, given how sensitive they are to low temperatures and sour tastes.

When the curse pours over, depriving the body of its shape and grotesquely elongating its limbs, it loses fingernails by the time the sludge finally recedes. It doesn’t matter how well-versed in healing magic the Emperor is, at some point the nailbeds just start hurting permanently. Which is a good thing. It means there’s no necrosis.

This body is dying, has been dying for decades, and there’s no way around it. The palismen just prolong the inevitable. They buy this body time so that the Emperor can accomplish his mission, but eventually, his iron will is not going to be enough to keep it moving and breathing. Oh, don’t give me that look, William. You know it’s true.

On bad days, this body’s breath smells like something dead and rotten, and on really bad days, when it coughs into a handkerchief, there are maggots squirming in the sputum. The Emperor makes sure to burn the piece of fabric immediately, but it doesn’t change the harsh realities. He isn’t in full control of his body — and no wonder, no witch and no demon have such a power. When bodies hurt, they just hurt, and when they rebel, they rebel, even though the curse has made sure that this one rebels more than any other. To witness this body’s failings is dangerous and, if one doesn’t have enough common sense to move aside when the Emperor’s hands turn into spikes, then yes, painful at times. But it is also the greatest privilege there is. It is the sign of ultimate trust to be allowed so close. If someone truly loves the Emperor as dearly as he claims he does, he stays by the Emperor’s side, Hunter.

Like all bodies, this one needs to eat, sleep, and sometimes perform other functions discreetly. With every passing year, its sleep gets interrupted more and more frequently by said functions. This body has foods it finds agreeable and many more that make it nauseous, but the ones it likes, it really likes. It’s tall, but straightening its back hurts, so it spends most of the time hunched. But watch closely, my dear boy. That other one might be slightly hunched as well, but it’s sitting on a throne, and when it stands, it stands tall, towering over everyone else.

That other body, Luke, the one that never ceases to command respect, belongs to the most powerful witch on the entire Isles, who knows, perhaps in the entire realm. It is untouchable, and there are those who say it’s immortal.

Almost nobody has seen it, it remains hidden behind the mask and the gauntlets. It has magic no other body possesses and no one in the Isles has ever seen ere. The Emperor conjures up blades made out of flesh that are sharper and harder than any steel. He makes the ground swallow him and spit him out anywhere he pleases, provided he’s willing to deal with the inconvenience of limbs materializing twisted in ways no other body’s joints would allow. He speaks to the Titan Himself, and it’s very obvious he has some connection to His flesh, being able to summon vines, limbs and tendons from the ground with nothing but a wave of a hand. The Emperor’s magic operates on that which is alive, but not quite. He animates the tools he requires.

The Golden Guard has similar magic, although it’s merely borrowed from the Emperor and cannot be used without the staff. The staff, mind you, Timothy, is just one part of his regalia. It marks him as the Emperor’s, yes, but the thing that truly marks him is the mask.

keep reading here

[croziers-compass]

Mushrooms and Necromancy

I wrote a very short little excerpt on how intrinsically fungi are related to Necromancy. Someone had been discussing some wortcunning and I piped up about how much I adore mushrooms and their relationship to Necromancy as well as death and decay. This little except is mostly to get the wheels turning for some that are interested in death work. I think we gloss over a lot of death work and pretend it is rather glamorous and "pretty". There is this desire to hide some of the more "unseemly" aspects of death work that are incredibly important and intrinsic to the cycles of life and death. This is just a little introductory piece I wrote without too much detail. I just needed to expunge the energy I had on the subject.

[justthesauce]

Secret Achievement: Stages of Decay

You are partially correct! Putrefaction is the part of death that where microorganisms (such as fungus and bacteria) begin to break down organic material. It is the 5th stage of death, preceded by (in order), pallor mortis (paleness), livor mortis (settling of blood), algor mortis (change in temperature), and rigor mortis (stiffness).

Putrefaction also leads to the creation of cadaverine and putrescine—liquids that cause the bad smell (I'm still learning abt these, so I don't know the precise details).

In terms of the different parts of decay, there are 5 commonly accepted ones, which are as follows, in order of occurrence:

1. FRESH. The body is recently dead and has not yet begun or has just begun to decay. Livor mortis, algor mortis, and rigor mortis happen here.

2. BLOAT. The body begins to bloat as microorganisms eat the flesh and release gasses. This is where cadaverine and putrescine are made, and where putrefaction REALLY kicks off.

3. ACTIVE DECAY. Tissues of the body begin to liquify and the skin begins to blacken. This is usually the stage where bugs go to town.

4. ADVANCED DECAY. Most parts of the body have either liquefied or been discolored/blackened. There's chemical things that happen here that I don't understand (yet).

5. DRY REMAINS. Putrefaction finishes here. All that's left is dried tissues and bones. Any further decomposition is skeletonization.

they need to come up with more words like necrosis and miasma and mausoleum and cadaver and morose and decrepit and stuff like that just so metal bands can expand their vocabulary

[princetorn]

“ i keep falling. “ ( it’s giving pat stuck in a death loop a la Ghosts BBC Fanny )

Somehow the hot-rodder managed to pull on the translucent stub of a cigarette, despite being breathless in death.  Tendrils of smoke leaked from his bloodied nostrils, smaller threads sprouting from the jagged perforations in the ruin of his cheek.  It was little more than muscle memory, a self-soothing gesture now devoid of the scratchy warmth that had once burned deep in the bellows of his lungs.

At his feet lay the earthly remains of Patrick.  The early bloat of decay had given way to sagging wetness.  What remained of his eyes were desiccated, sunken, mercifully closed.  Exposed skin was discoloured and pitted, pierced by rainfall and burrowing insect mandibles.  Limbs were broken, arranged unnaturally, like young saplings buckled and misshapen after heavy snowfall.

There was no sound of approach, only the weight of presence, of quiet manifestation.  When Patrick spoke, his voice seemed far away.  Soft, forlorn. 

Don’t look, Royce almost said.  It isn’t you.  

As if the mould-bloom body that melted into the ground wasn’t as much a part of Patrick as whatever spectral essence remained.  Here lay the skull and here lay the jaws, housing adult teeth whose emergence had been celebrated, the loss of milk teeth seen as a shedding of boyhood.  Here lay the hands that once held, the lips that once kissed, the vocal cords that strummed and sang, the bones that had been built in his mother’s womb.

Royce turned to find Patrick as he had been in life – an unblemished picture of youth, with his mop of dark hair and eyes of Winchester-brown – though he had only ever known him in the way that ghost might know the living.  As a witness, as a silent passenger.  A quiet, gentle haunting.  There had been so much that was familiar in the camaraderie of the travellers, in the press of their warm, unwashed bodies.  Their music hadn’t been to Royce’s taste, nor had their technicolour sense of dress, but their kinship, vigour, wanderlust was a language that he recognised, one that he had once spoken fluently.

Really, he should have resented Patrick for his misstep, for filling his young body with drugs and walking to his death with wide-eyed wonder.  It was a decision that had doomed them both.  Just as he himself had been condemned by his pride, by the furious twist of his car key.  Patrick kept falling and Royce kept crashing.  Sometimes he found himself in the front seat, slamming his way through the gears, headlights piercing the dark.  It was a story that had already been told, an echo ringing out across the decades, and it could only ever end one way – with the car crumpling like a Coke can, his body shredded against the asphalt.  At least there had been a funeral.  At least there was a headstone.  Patrick had yet to be afforded either grace.

“Ain’t that a bite.”

Royce flicked the cigarette away, and it vanished completely.  A shade of a shade, leaving no trace of smoke or smoulder in the tall, boulder-strewn grass.  With a small, tight smile, he gave Patrick an amicable clap on the shoulder, grasping him there with degloved fingers, turning him, walking him away from the shadow-cloaked scene of putrefaction. 

“Sooner or later you’ll start reliving it less. You just gotta give it time.”

[ninamodaffari]

So happy to finally show off my final piece for the Tome of Pacts zine I feature in.

This is Hagne, the Herald of Rot, and faithful servant to her Patron, Cicardia. Her look was inspired by several things -- death masks, pomegranates, worn bronze, flies and centipedes. The butterflies she carries feed on death and decay. Hagne herself felt the cold embrace of the grave, but was blessed to find herself given another chance. She will not fail.

I am so honored to have been a part of this project, and this is one of my favorite pieces to date. I hope you guys enjoy it as well. :)

[eclipsedoodler]

Big Macs Sacrifice

Art for the mlp infection stuff on TikTok! :D

Character info:

Part 2: Infection Stages || Part 3: the princesses || part 4: dissecting || part 5: forage

[evil-cryptile]

unnerving worm girls in YOUR area

[loudclan-clangen]

Ooh!!!! Has Songpaw always had his ghost sight, or did he just get it after his first exposure to the oil?

Songpaw has always had what I would describe as "ghost sense", where he could feel presences, and maybe hear whispered words, but he couldn't see any spirits until he touched the black water. Dancepaw also has a ghost sense, they both inherited it from Eklutna, who used this sense to lead her to the black water, and later to Loudclan.

Eklutna is the best girl in my heart. I enjoy changing her ghost based on whose perspective we're seeing her from. Silt hallucinates her as this menacing, leering figure because Eklutna is THE villian of their story. The version of her watching her kits play is a more true version, that's what someone would see if they visited her in the blackwater pool. Meanwhile when we see her through Songkit's eyes she's faded and hard to understand because he's actively trying to block her out. He's refusing to let her appear fully to him, which is causing her to be more and more upset and incoherent.

You are not insane, they have little crushes on each other (moreso on Juneaucliff's part) and I think they are very cute together!

It is 100% okay to be an Owlstar lover! It is okay to be an anyone lover! I love all of them, no matter how bad of people they are so you are never alone no matter what character you love. My asks are a (nearly) judgement free zone.

He is! Sorry I didn't get to your ask earlier, I get a lot of asks, and I can't answer all of them, so while I LOVE and appreciate comments like this I tend to prioritize questions that I think would provide new information to the majority of people or line up with an upcoming plot point. I promise I am not ignoring anyone's ask for a "bad" reason, if someone or something was bugging me I would reach out to the person and let them know. Truly I am not telling anyone to stop submitting asks, they make me so happy, even if I don't answer them I see all of them and they are so kind. And if you have a burning question or comment that you feel has been missed please feel free to resubmit it, I do not mind repeats! /not mad

WARNING: Depiction of Decomposition/Decaying Body Below:

Yes! Because only the Leader and Lead Healer can truly commune with spirits, skulls are exposed after decomposition so that loved ones can speak and connect to the deceased. This doesn't happen until several moons to a year after the burial (depending on what season the cat died in), however, as the flesh must be allowed to decay. It goes something like this:

[itsyapeepkiri]

Hey @deerspherestudios!!! I finally finished the drawing!!!!! It only took 20 hours... but I hope you like it!!

This is based on Day 1, ending 1 of Mushroom Oasis, so spoilers if you don't know about it.

I'll add tags, but TW for death, bone, decomposition, decay (both human and animal), blood if you squint, body horror (???). Also, this will break your heart, so sorry, but the art gods demand tears today.

TWs UNDER CUT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Some tid bits about this project in no particularly order:

- I started this cause I thought about what it would look like if Mychael had found MC a little bit sooner (than the few weeks that it took for the body to decompose). Plus, I wanted to brush up on my anatomy skills.

- The trees were based on the image of in deerspherestudios's answer to an ask about Mychael's vision, specifically the 'bottom eyes closed' one.

- The cat is an orange tabby cause I thought it goes nice with canon green collar. The MC is based on deerspherestudios actual MC ref sheet. Mychael is deerspherestudios whole-heartedly, but I did use the outdoor outfit we see him in in the 2nd day.

- I would image that MC's and Mychael's bags are just off the page, but I just forgot to add them.

- The tree 2nd from the right was not supposed to be there. Or at least I don't think it was. I don't know how that tree got there, I swear. 😅

- My 1st hour, which ended up being a failed attempt, was based on my sleeping sibling. Then, when they woke up and took a look at my work, they mentioned that the hand was as big as the entire chest somehow. That's when I said screw it, tried to find some reference images, and ended up spending the next 1 and a half hours on a 3-D model website trying to force the pre-made models to bend to my will. After that, it went pretty smoothly. *cries in hating perspective*

- I used BiC Mark it permanent markers, an ultra fine point red Sharpie, a Sakura Pigma Micron 005 pen, some Prismacolor Premier colored pencils for details, and a random school issued yellow pencil and pink eraser to make this.

- You can't really see it, but the flowers that Mychael is holding are forget-me-nots, as a reference to the field he would have taken MC to on the 2nd day. They are also in the rough shape of a broken heart. 💔

- On that note, the mushrooms coming out of MC's eye are also shaped like a heart.

- And yes, our soft boi is crying... 😢

[themoonstonechronicler]

yall really liked my last bit of art with saoirse and lani in it, so have three more! (these ones are a little suggestive)

[404-art-found]

been thinking a lot about the masks

They're actually organic, and lie in a dormant state until someone holds it up to their face. A newly-possessed masked is clumsy and awkward; it has swiftly altered the victim's blood to make it a volatile substance to boil off the faces of future victims. They bleed freely when stressed and out of excitement when when seeing prey, before even starting pursuit.

Slowly, over time, a mask's roots grow into any and all available holes within the victim's face (mouth, nose, eyes, and in very old masked, ears) to gain a finer control of the corpse's movements and senses and to keep it in one piece longer, like a tree's roots in dirt. These masks have more restraint for when they bleed, to preserve their blood for the kill, and urban legend says that their blood burns hotter and eats through helmet metal quicker.

Masks are rather docile when not actively hunting. But when they finally get their hands on new prey, they melt off the victim's face and start the process making another one of itself, similar to budding in earth hydras. The new mask is deposited onto what's left of the victim's face, and boom, now you have two mimics!

You can in theory rip a mask off its host with enough brute force, but... well, now you have a dormant mask and a corpse. To actually kill a mask, you have to shatter it, whether it's on a body or not. Any good hammer will do.

[nixnephili]

Swipe for close-ups!

BSD GORETOBER Day 2 - Wax

I like the face-up in this one ~

There's not much else to say...Nikolai's "grain of rice" color palette fit the wax theme, so I just treated him like mozzarella ~

-Nix🌙

[keii4ii]

P Suffering™️

[simonomaly]

Took me almost 80 fuckin days but I have finally finished this, thank you random users on r slash halflife for the character suggestions :-D

Base used under the cut, created by Abisalli