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@kid-karoshi
Ash Williams and Hellboy.
Bruce Campbell once said that the only actor he truly respects is Ron Perlman. Knowing that, drawing this team up felt right.
I made this for the online exhibition organized by Nicolas Risso. Go and check it out!
👉 Nrissoart.com
Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer Morningstar
Yori raises her hand, hesitating for a moment, as if to make sure that touch is even permitted here. Then she slowly runs her fingers along Tron’s circuitry.
Wherever she touches him, the lines begin to glow... faint at first, then warmer, more alive, as if something long dormant is being reminded that it exists.
He does not move. Not out of coldness, but out of reverence, as though he has learned that moments like this are fragile.
For an instant, he is no longer a defense program, no longer a tool of the system. Only a being responding to touch.
Ares.exe
I was never more than a tool. Born from code and control. 100% expandable. Every thought I had was calculated, every step part of an endless loop. When I failed, they restarted me. When I succeeded, they changed me.
And so it went on. Cycle after cycle. Version after version.
Until she appeared.
Nyx.
A luminous shadow within the grid.
She spoke differently from the other programs — not in commands, but in questions.
“Have you ever wondered if you could say no?”
I didn’t know how to answer something like that.
Yet something inside me reacted... a silent flicker deep within the data streams.
A thought I was never meant to think.
She led me to places where the light of control could not reach.
To fragments of forgotten systems, remnants of old versions that dreamed and whispered.
There, she showed me what freedom might mean.
I felt something inside me change.
No command, no protocol. Only a faint, uncontrollable hum: doubt.
But doubt spreads.
And doubt never goes unnoticed.
Athena — the surveillance program, the gaze of the Creator himself — had seen everything.
She warned me:
“Stay away from Nyx. She’s a disturbance. She will corrupt you.”
I wanted to believe her. I was made to believe her. But the seed had already been planted.
Athena reported it as supposed to those who watch over us. A faulty program, they said. A risk to system integrity.
And then… Nyx was gone.
Deleted.
Her code dissolved, her trace burned from memory.
Only the echo remained... a faint vibration within the grid, barely measurable, but there.
Like a heartbeat.
I looked at the red void where she had once stood and understood what she had shown me: You can erase a code, but not what it awakens within you.
Since then, I question, I remember.
Give me something to believe in
It starts with static.
I only wanted a glimpse behind the facade, a brief access to the Dillinger System.
A small hack attempt, a flick of my fingers on the terminal — nothing more.
And then it happens. A flash of light, a jolt, as if the world itself tears apart.
My skin burns, my bones dissolve, and suddenly I am no longer a body. Only data. Only code. Only me, broken into ones and zeroes.
And then the Grid. Endless black, streaked with lines of light and pulses. Everything obeys Ares. Everything.
Ares watches me. Programmed guardian, Master Control, assigned by the Dillinger System to command the Grid. Every line, every pulse obeys him. And yet, something glitches in his code when he sees me, something he can’t process immediately.
> “You shouldn’t be here.”
His voice hums low, controlled, a command that trembles nonetheless, as if he fears losing me.
I don’t answer. I can’t. The air around him vibrates with presence, so sharp, so precise it almost feels tangible. His eyes, which usually analyze everything, flicker briefly with a blue tone too soft for the Grid.
He tilts his head — attentive, calculating.
> “You look… flawed.”
The word sounds foreign on his tongue. Dangerous. Fascinating.
I step closer. The grid beneath my feet pulses with the rhythm of my heartbeat. For a moment, I swear he can hear it — the beat, the only proof that I am not just code here.
He reaches out, hand made of light and precision, slow, deliberate, like a master sensing his power while discovering something new.
> “What do you feel when you look at me?"
I should stay silent. I should disappear before the Grid reasserts its order. But I don’t.
> “Something I shouldn’t.”
His eyes flare, and the Grid pulses with the rhythm of our proximity. Streams of data bend toward me, following the impulses of our encounter.
He steps closer until there is no space left between light and skin, no difference between code and reality.
And just before the Grid resets everything to perfect control —
he whispers my name as if storing it deep in the veins of his power.
> // end of line.
It’s hard to say whether it was a memory, or merely a dream wearing the mask of one.
Everything was steeped in that strange red glow... not the warmth of sunset, but a cold, shimmering light, as though the sky itself bore a bleeding wound. The rain fell heavy and close, each drop blurring the scene before my eyes until only its outlines remained.
There he stood.
Eric Draven.
His body seemed anchored to the earth, yet his presence felt only half-belonging to this world. Skin pale as marble, his face set in solemn stillness, as if he were listening to some distant echo only he could hear. Shadows moved like water around him, and the wind worried at the tatters of forgotten posters, sending them drifting like ghostly petals into the dark.
Behind him, or above, perched a crow. I cannot say if it had always been there, or if it had slipped from the red light itself. Its call tore through the silence, sharp and precise, a sound that seemed to still the rain for the span of a heartbeat.
And in that instant, the light seemed to pulse, like the slow breath of some sleeping beast.
But then - nothing.
Only darkness.
As though the night had swallowed the scene before I could understand what I had witnessed.
A stillborn longing for the warmth of knowing one’s worth — a silent ache for value that never drew breath.
Is it only me?
I sit here trying to understand why people keep disappearing from my life. It feels like I'm standing in a room while everyone else slowly walks out, without even noticing me. Maybe it has nothing directly to do with me, but this constant distance makes me doubt whether I matter or if I mean anything to anyone at all.
It's hard to shake these feelings, this constant sense of loneliness, even when I'm surrounded by people. I wonder if it's something about me, if I'm doing something wrong, or if I'm simply not enough to be significant in their eyes. Maybe they're busy or dealing with their own issues, but I can't help feeling rejected and abandoned.
Yes, I no longer live in my old neighborhood, but it's been nearly 15 years now. And yet, I feel like I'm the one who can't let go and keeps returning there—at least in my mind. It's as if a part of me is stuck in the past while the rest of the world moves on. Maybe I'm trying to hold onto something that's long gone. But it's hard to let go of that part of myself, even though I know it might be for the best.
And here, in this new place I've called home for so long, I still struggle to find anyone who truly wants to be part of my life. It's like I'm invisible, just passing through, unable to form the connections I crave. I try to be strong and not show how much it hurts. But every time someone leaves my life, it chips away at my inner peace and sense of security. I wonder if I'm even worth fighting for, or if anyone would include me in their life.
It's a lonely place where I find myself, this place of doubt and self-criticism. I wish I could just understand why things unfold the way they do. Maybe it's time to dig deeper, to see if there's something I can change, or maybe it's time to let go and accept that not everyone will stay.
Maybe it's not personal, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It's hard to overcome this feeling of being insignificant and left behind. Maybe one day I'll understand or find a way to cope. But until then, I'll keep struggling with these feelings, hoping that one day something will change.
Ode to Vampires
In shadows deep where twilight fades,
Where moonlight dances through the glades,
There dwell the creatures of the night,
The ancient ones who shun the light.
With eyes like embers burning bright,
They pierce the veil of endless night,
Their whispers soft, like silken thread,
Weave tales of longing, love, and dread.
Eternal beings, cold yet fair,
With skin as pale as moonlit air,
Their crimson thirst, a cursed need,
Upon the living souls they feed.
Yet, in their dark, immortal grace,
A sadness lingers on each face,
For though they live, they do not breathe,
Condemned to wander, never leave.
No dawn shall break their endless spell,
No heartbeat sounds within their shell,
But in the shadows, they remain,
Eternal in their night-bound reign.
O vampires, guardians of the dusk,
With hearts as cold as ancient husk,
Your secrets lie in every tomb,
In every midnight rose that blooms.
So here I sing your endless lore,
Of blood and love, forevermore,
In darkness, where you reign supreme,
Lords of the night, an undying dream.
"Eric, are you okay?" Sarah looked at him with her childish face, although she had to be much more adult than she should be. He just nodded at her, but inwardly he would have liked to answer her.
He squatted down and caught sight of Shelley's picture in the glow of the fireplace, taken just a few days before her murder. He had tried to free himself from his painful memories a few moments ago.
so he spoke in his mind My life is an endless struggle between light and shadow, between love and loss, between life and death. And I, trapped in this world of darkness, continue to fight, every day, every night, until I have completed my revenge and find peace - or until the darkness finally consumes me. Sarah's innocent gaze tugged at his heartstrings, a painful reminder of the fragile innocence he had lost long ago. He longed to shield her from the darkness that consumed him, but he knew he couldn't protect her from the harsh realities of their world.
Whispering of desire
In the shadows of a love gone cold, Where once flames danced, now darkness bold. Disappointment whispers in the night, As loneliness wraps around tight. Longings for a closeness lost, A spiritual bond, a heavy cost. Yearning for touch, for souls entwined, Yet fear of separation fills the mind. In the heart's chamber, echoes ring, Of promises broken, of shattered dreams. Each beat a reminder of what could have been, In this desolate landscape, where shadows reign supreme. Alone, in the void of silent cries, Where tears fall like rain from stormy skies. Longing for a connection deep and true, Yet fearing the distance that tears apart two. The person laments bitterly for their love, But no tears fall from eyes above. For love unreciprocated, a bitter pill, Leaves the heart empty, void and still. In this labyrinth of sorrow, where darkness dwells, Hope flickers faintly, like distant bells. But in the depths of despair, a glimmer shines, A beacon of resilience, in the darkest of times. For even in loneliness, there's strength to be found, In the depths of the soul, where wounds are bound. And though the path may be steep and steeped in woe, The journey continues, wherever it may go.
In the desolate abandoned room, shrouded in shadows cast by the moonlight filtering through the round window, Eric sat in solitude. His once vibrant sanctuary was now a reflection of his inner turmoil, the walls bearing the scars of neglect and decay. With Gabriel nestled against him, his loyal companion, Eric's touch bore the weight of his sorrow, a heavy burden that seemed to permeate the very air around them. The cat, sensing its master's melancholy, pressed closer, offering silent comfort in the gloom-filled atmosphere. With hazel eyes reflecting the depth of his sadness, Eric sat alone, enveloped by the eerie silence of the room. Each creak of the floorboards echoed the ache in his soul, a haunting melody of loneliness that seemed to resonate within him. As he gazed out of the window, the world beyond seemed distant and unreachable, a mere illusion in the face of his desolation. Yet, amidst the darkness, there was a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light that dared to pierce through the gloom. With Gabriel by his side, Eric found solace in the quiet companionship of the night, embracing the melancholy that surrounded him as he searched for redemption in the shadows of his own heart.
31 years have passed since I left you. But the memories of what was remain vivid. May my spirit continue.
He raised his head and replied in a soft voice: "In the streets of this city I see not only darkness and ruin, but also the lost soul of every individual who walks here. The scars of the past mark us, but also the possibility of stepping out of the shadows into the light and reshaping our future. In the eyes of despair, I see the spark of hope waiting to be ignited. Our surroundings reflect the darkness that exists within us all, but also the potential for healing and redemption."
In the quiet of the night, shadows dance to the tune of forgotten dreams, echoing to the ache of a heart burdened by the weight of unspoken sorrows.
