i. when HE touches you, do not scream. HIS holiness will burn where it heals; HIS name is written in a language you cannot speak across your chest.
KATE MILLENS :: SLENDERVERSE :: HORROR :: INDIE :: UNSELECTIVE
YOU ARE THE REASON
Claire Keane

#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies

shark vs the universe
sheepfilms
RMH

titsay

Origami Around
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Cosimo Galluzzi
dirt enthusiast
will byers stan first human second
Jules of Nature
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
art blog(derogatory)
we're not kids anymore.

@theartofmadeline
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

blake kathryn

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@c0aldust
i. when HE touches you, do not scream. HIS holiness will burn where it heals; HIS name is written in a language you cannot speak across your chest.
KATE MILLENS :: SLENDERVERSE :: HORROR :: INDIE :: UNSELECTIVE
worried starters
angstmemes:
trigger warnings apply! ( mental illness, drugs and alcohol use, self-destructive behaviours, and vomiting )
“You haven’t slept for days, have you?” “Are you eating properly? You don’t look it.” “Why do you keep stumbling over your words? Just how tired are you?” “You need to think about yourself every once in a while.” “I know your work is important, but you’re going to end up in hospital if you go on like this!” “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” “You look so… empty. I’m worried for you, please talk to me.” “Are you alright in there? You’re so quiet.” “How did you get these bruises? Please don’t lie to me.” “There’s something bothering you that you’re not telling me and I can see it slowly destroying you. What happened?” “You’re sleep deprived and you haven’t been eating. Why do you think you’re feeling dizzy?” “I can give you some pills to help you sleep. They aren’t healthy, but this is even less healthy.” “If you didn’t just blink I would’ve sworn you were dead, that’s how sickly you’re looking. Go to bed, please!” “Have you drank all of these bottles in one weekend?!” “I know you don’t want this, but it’s for your own good. Sign the papers so they can pick you up tomorrow and you can get clean.” “What the hell are you doing?! Did you do that to yourself?!” “When was the last time you left the house? Or opened the curtains for that matter.” “Here, just keep breathing. It’ll be okay. Better out than in…” “This can’t go on like this! You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, you barely talk!” “I’m sorry. I went through your room and found this. Explain what the hell this is doing in your room!” “I thought you’d quit! How long have you been lying to me?” “I’m only trying to help and right now I think I have a much better idea of what you need than you do.” “Did you take anything? Why are you passing out? Hey! Stay with me!”
Send me a "Dear ---" and I will write my honest feelings to them.
zefron-ftw:
☓ Dear Dad
☓ Dear Mom
☓ Dear Brother
☓ Dear Sister
☓ Dear Ex-Best Friend
☓ Dear Best Friend
☓ Dear Future Girlfriend
☓ Dear Future Boyfriend
☓ Dear Crush
☓ Dear Enemy
☓ Dear [anyone else]
attains:
antisocial ( 3.3.13 )
long silence.
❝ same. so what the hell are you doing around here, lady? lookin’ for the big h? ❞
That’s not her god.
“N o.. . l lo s.t..”
It seems to take a while before he finds anything worth exploring. Many of the trees were spaced out enough to easily maneuver between, which seemed a little odd to Jay since most forests were quite overgrown and hard to journey through. Either way he wouldn’t complain since he doesn’t have to fight to get around, and it makes the walk go much smoother. Not to mention he can cover ground a bit faster.
When Jay comes across the entrance to what seems to be some kind of facility–he has to stop and consider if he should go in. It was going to be dark soon, and that meant it was going to get cold as well. He didn’t have anything on him that would help if he kept walking, so this might be the best bet to hopefully find people–or at the very least he can take shelter there.
Cautiously, the cameraman approaches the open area and steps further inside. His focus seems to be strictly on the camera (very limited), watching its screen instead of looking around with his own eyes.
She does hear footsteps. Kate sits up, quiets her breathing, listens for the sound to come again. To her surprise and mild terror, they seem to be coming for her. In an instant her breathing picks up again, loud and indicative of some kind of lung problem, and she presses herself as deep into her hiding space as the scant cover of one big box would allow.
Her eyes scan the blinding entrance to her haunt frantically, seeking the source of the noise. There is nothing for her to be scared of, not truly--if HE was coming HE wouldn’t bother walking through the entrance--but nonetheless she’s shaking with nerves she doesn’t have the mental discipline to try and suppress. After so long with nothing but danger coming to her, she finds it hard to draw up any emotion other than outright fear. Finally, her gaze settles on the silhouette of a man: not threatening in the least, but equipped with tools to see her clearly in the darkness.
The man walks further into the shadows, further in- to her supposed safe space. If her GOD hovers around this man and doesn’t kill him, surely HE doesn’t want her to, either. The best she can do is cower and hope he doesn’t notice her--but surely he will; her breathing is all but apparent, and if he walks just a few steps more she’ll be fully in his view, should he turn to look.
❝ jesus christ. please see a doctor or something. that’s gross. ❞
Far too casual shrug- ging.
€
— € for a bad memory that still haunts them.
Kate has been stabbed.
She can see nothing but the grisly weapons at fault: six long, writhing tendrils, thrust into her stomach just below the ribs and pinning her to the rough bark of a tree. She is buckled over at the waist, supported only where the methods of her stabbing protrude in such a way merciful enough to hold her up. Below, her feet swing helplessly, easily her height again above the ground and in no position to help her escape. Her whole world is the maddening, nauseating ache of the wounds–even where her body doesn’t burn with the pain they sap her strength, leave her helpless, make her extremities indisposed to respond to her many and varyingly wild attempts to move them.
Except, there are no wounds. She is stabbed, certainly; the agony she’s being forced to experience brooks no other explanation. She can view clearly where the weapons pierce her body. But, where they enter her skin and flesh remain whole, and her clothing is free of the gore that would follow such a brutality. The sword-like tentacles keeping her crucified are made of nothing but darkness, capable of keeping her pinned and cowed without causing any lasting harm to her body. Even this early she wishes they would just kill her.
Another tendril spears into her neck, nails her head back against the tree so she has no choice but to look upon the CREATURE that’s been stalking her for so long. The grim though settles in the air between them that she will do no more running from it, that it has caught her well and truly and any further movements she makes will by its cruelty, and nothing more. Blood dribbles out of her mouth and not one of those cruelties can be spared to wipe it away.
The idea is presented to her, somehow, that she will serve this THING, and it is not a suggestion. It waits, twisting its shadowy knives deeper into her each second, looking for signs of resistance. There are none–the girl’s eyes are dull, her mouth agape, a single pitiful cough bubbling out of her mouth. All she can offer it is a single vocalization of her pain, a tiny groan that in any other company might have gone entirely unnoticed. Satisfied, it drops her.
Kate drops like a cut marionette to the ground, rolls onto hands and knees, and vomits.
Trees, trees. It’s always trees. Any time he wakes up somewhere he’s unfamiliar with he’s always so disoriented. What happened? How did he get here? How far away is he from the shitty motel he was staying in? He doesn’t know any of these.
It has to be close to dusk, shadows from the canopy cascading over the ground and making it hard to tell the time.
There’s a fresh tape in his camcorder. The fact it was always with him was a grim reminder of his fate.
Jay turns the recorder on and the red light blinks to life. He’ll have to wander this unfamiliar territory until he found some semblance of society again so he could find his way back.
She can feel the buzz of her GOD in the air, and she can’t pretend to ignore the humble curiosity concerning what might bring HIM so near to her remote, inconsequential home. She knows better than to question HIM outright, but still she finds herself stumbling the dim passages of the mine, seeking the entrance she knows has to be around here somewhere.
It takes her far, far too long to find it. If the girl had been more aware of herself, she perhaps would have noticed that she’d wandered in circles for close to fifteen minutes, but in her current state its a miracle she’s found it at all. Kate slumps to the ground behind a tall wooden crate, finds a position where she can put her back against the wall and still peer out toward the dazzlingly bright world beyond.
Does she hear footsteps? Some clue? She might be imagining it.
❝ …are you serious? are you… – are you fucking serious? oh my god. ❞
Her laughter sounds more like glorified coughing.
Color-Coded Starter Call!
Want me to write you up a starter? Inbox me a color for a specific theme/mood!
Red for a violent starter
Orange for an urgent starter
Yellow for a scary starter
Green for a friendly starter
Blue for an angsty starter
Purple for a silly starter
Pink for a romantic starter
❝ lady, you need help. you’re worse than the cats and their hairballs – clean it up, you… ugh… vile lady. ❞
She wipes the blood off her face and flings it at her.
Peek into my character's past!
Send me a…
— 〆 for a childhood story — ღ for a drabble about a romance/their love life — ⌆ for a story about their family/home life — € for a bad memory that still haunts them — ✢ for a good memory that makes them smile
Or…
Send me a name/place/event or situation from my character’s past and they will just talk about that one thing.
❝ … ❞
❝ what the fuck is wrong with you? that’s disgusting. were you raised in a barn? ❞
She’s grinning, blood drooling out of her mouth.
Shameless.
❝ whats the matter lil’ lady? kitty got your tongue? or did mr. h get to it it first? ❞
The only way she can think to res- pond to that is to spit a slimy glob- ule of bile and blood at her feet.
After waiting for a second, he released her, albeit rather hesitantly—she wasn’t advancing, wasn’t making any sudden movements that could be considered necessarily violent; on the contrary, that did not mean that Brian still wouldn’t be het up or overwrought. Shoulders are squared as he brings up overturned palms, which face the sky in a silent question. Hands shift only slightly when he tilts his head forward—he does not expect an answer, & at her inquiry, he will offer no more than a simple shrug in response. The voices, mere murmurings scratching at his skull, try to speak, & tell him to back off. But he doesn’t.
She takes her hand back slowly, letting it settle back at her side only after a sluggish moment of hesitation. She’s worried he’ll want it back, perhaps, fearful of garnering ire even from an entity with no power over her. His response, though, that’s upsetting her, and the way her jaw works as she repeats the only word she’s managed to form today makes that obvious.
“Why? Why, why. .. w hy?”
Her opposite hand--opposite, as if that distinction will make it okay--raises to gesture toward his mask as she rattles on--but not as close this time. The changed proximity might not be much of a difference, but she's at least trying to learn, even if she'll forget most of this later. His boundaries are somethings Kate’s learned will get her grabbed.
c0aldust
❝ it’s not so wise for people like you to be snoopin’ around such places like this. ❞
People like her? She doesn’t under- stand.
“Hh h..?”