#graphic description

[koenji]

Islamist forces tied a druze man to a chair and burned him alive 💔💔💔 there is video of the aftermath. Don't look away (that doesn't mean literally watch these videos in fact you shouldn't) and speak up like you've spoken up for others!!! They are abducting women and children, are speaking of enslaving them like Yazidi women were, humiliating men and killing them.

[aravenlovesfanfiction]

<- prev [ Assassin's Creed fic ] next ->

[grim-faux]

let us talk graphic imagery and its conveyance.

blood. A streak of blood on the wall will never be as impactful or descriptive than a bloody handprint.

because what? Someone bled here? Squirt-squirt. Ouchies.

but a bloody handprint informs the viewer that something occurred. Someone pressed a bloody handprint on the wall. Maybe they dragged and smeared it. Was it a killer? or the fleeing victim

imagine imagery

[pencil-inc]

#5

Sometimes I miss the facility. 

I know, that sounds weird, but that was normal for me. An entire era of my life, just living and breathing science and horror, all mixed together into a mush of experience. I try to ignore it though. Push back the memories, try and move on.

Kind of ironic considering what I’m doing.

See, there’s a reason why everybody studying STEM– yes, even the more passive parts of it– takes an ethics course. Before that, the push for innovation– something I think I ended up getting swept into– fuelled most of not all of the coursework and theory we were working on. Always bigger, always better, always fresh and new and original, some reverberation of futurism. Doesn’t matter what it is, just make sure you’re not copying some 10’s or 20’s sci-fi thriller (or do, if you have a permit).

That was the backbone of most of Project PENCIL. (except the copying stuff. That was surprisingly more achievable than we thought; AI generated toons didn’t work out very well for us though)

Ethics can only get you so far in reasonable, level-headed, absolutely sane science. Hence why we left it at the door not long before we gunned it down and kicked it open. But you still have to ensure a reasonable degree of safety and reliability so you can get your results without anything going wrong.

I remember during my first couple weeks, the labs had just finished being built. In one of them, I was on observation duty for an RS test; Rapid Shake. Think of the way you’d open a Coke can if you wanted to ruin somebody’s day. The test chambers are made up of a dome of soft wall panels (I can’t find the CAD file right now so just use your imagination). One of the panels inside the chamber hadn’t been fully attached to the ceiling. They’re made of cushy faux leather stuff, floor to ceiling; good for a wide open space if a toon starts bouncing off the walls. It was hanging right above the Grabber; something we’d retire later for something more multipurpose than a flailing mechanical arm.

I knew it was dangerous. I knew it could hurt someone, staff or toon. But I didn’t say anything. I don’t get personal. I shouldn’t, not here. But you need to understand how deep-seated this whole attitude to PENCIL was, even before LEAD.

I was looking at that risk, that potential for harm… and I was excited. Excited like a little kid hearing an ice cream truck a block away, excited for everything that could cause a catastrophe. Didn’t matter about the consequences, I just wanted to see it happen. I wanted blood on the floor.

We got our toon– a little dog from a pet insurance commercial– and set her in the machine. I didn’t pay attention to the test. All I could think about was that panel; I could have sworn it leaned down a few inches while the Grabber’s hydraulics made the floor buzz.

Here’s what the thoughts of a crazy person sounds like: Fall. Fall. Fall. Fuck it up. Do it. It’s gonna happen. I know it will. Just fall. Fall! Instead of flying birds or stars, we ended up with spiral eyes from all the shaking; something we expected from an anime toon. We swapped her for her best friend– a tabby cat with a company logo stitched to her chest– and we did it all over again.

And I just kept staring.

I pointed out the loose panel, and they sent maintenance to fix it. Heard them muttering something about how good it was someone saw it before something went wrong.

Objectively, I think it’s likely that might have been one of the more tame accidents if it did happen.

There’s a word for that feeling, actually: schadenfreude.

“the experience of pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction that comes from learning of or witnessing the troubles, failures, pain, or humiliation of another.”

Soon enough, it was baked into the core of our work. Pride in creating suffering, and suffering yourself. Without either… what was your work without it?

I suppose it’s that drive that I miss. That verve, that persistence. LEAD was a pretty good work ethic at the end of the day, helping you keep a rapid pace despite the burnout. Now, I work at my own pace on this.

I’m happy to have that grace at least.

— Reference

[ink-on-paper]

Shards of Past Reflections: vol.2 act.2

And he went to the bathroom. He couldn't tell what he did wrong this time. He always messed up anyway. The fucking rules would change again tomorrow, or next hour, or next year. Why bother?

Trapped in the mask thay made him wore since he was born. His face was tight and hurted.

Hurted

HurTEd

HURTED

How was he supposed to just live? Survive? In this world where everyone talked in riddles, while he just wanted someone to share his collection of shiny buttons with.

What could he do? He would never fit in. He sees it now. So clearly it hurted. Again, pain. He wanted it to stop.

To stop it all, he should...

He went back to class. They were laughing again, an ugly sound that made his brain bleed a little. Because he could never understand. And it was cold loneliness. Forever, ice pits.

At home he looked in the mirror. The stiches to streched, skin deformed under the strenght. The little threads were so thightly knot they made moving painfull, as they threatened to cut his face.

But with a crow out of his window, he knew he couldn't wear this mask anymore. He lifted his blade.

Slowly and easly, it broke the stiches, and he lifted the skin. The water became red, and the white porcellain of the sink will be forever stained. He revealed the hidden face underneath. Bloody and disgusting.

He could never live without an identity.

He found with the hand his beautiful mask, rapresentation of him. What he hidden under layers of lies and acts and theatre. Filled with hot glue, he placed it on his muscles. It hurted, but it tasted like freedom. He gave up this life.

As he walked away, to meet the crow outside, his body fell to the floor. He went through the thick glass and flew in the dark blue sky.

His heart still longed for the warm caress he knew deads could never receive.

[em0tionl0rd]

Something Found

A document containing notes for my William Afton headcanon in his Springtrap phase. Spoilered for length and graphic descriptions.

springtraps/aftons: (compiled 11/29/2023) "spring jack" "tentacles" afton "purple haze"

fleshy tendrils when in suit / they hold the suit together and act as organs / muscles

suit can "feel" // phantom skin, a part of him, bc tendrils can feel vibration, he imagines it

- st eventually enjoys a friendly touch, pet, hug, etc. but it's overwhelming to feel positive touch

purple translucent energy/plasma tentacles when human/healed/powered up "force of will"

human self aware of self when in suit // suit self has ideation of human self

troublemaker rabbit cartoon personality // kind hearted

does not want to talk about past (trigger) // very bitter from psychological abuse from goldf

very interested in further experimentation with self / immortality

- wants to become human again / stay alive / survive

- likes to indulge in others stories / theories about life / afterlife, to try & understand his "death"

ate or relied on some form of sustenance when "came back" - such as bugs, mice, etc.

- probably lured them in with his own rotten smell, or picked them off of his own body

feels pain upon touch due to "fried" nerves (takes time to become accustomed to it again)

- one daring enough to touch / caress the fleshy tendrils / work with st can help him adjust

- touch is one of the ways a potential friend / lover can help st recover in the long run

when enraged, st is overcome with explosive urges to destroy & harm perceived opposition

- st doesn't kill without reason

- st has been simmering in hatred for those who abandoned him and left him to rot

a/st believes that the original victims deserved their fate, that it was for good

- a, fed-up / distressed by the amount of misbehaved children / poor parenting, that it got to him

- a killed both intentionally, while intoxicated / under the influence, and carelessly

- he has grown to regret a lot of what he did, but resents the spirits that held his soul captive

- he believes that tormenting / torturing him / his mind wasn't the right call

- he believes that bc they were children, they didn't have the right to decide his fate

- he feels like being trapped in the suit was punishment enough

- he believes the kids prolonged their own torment by prolonging his life instead of rest / closure

- he has mixed feelings about his responsibility in "freeing" them, that they need to simply let go

4 and sl are tentatively canon for my version of the character, 4 with exceptions

- my canon ends at 3 and I take liberties from there in adapting canon / creating headcanon

- the idea that he continued to 'mad scientist' experiment perturbes me so i won't explore it

- to me he was simply a messed up guy who dabbled in a little sadism and the metaphysics

- - due to a belief in the paranormal / ghosts, and accidentally creating active poltergeists

- - and upon exploring it further post accidental discovery, he fucked up, greed caught him

a plush of spring bonnie and fredbear is in the chest, along with a photo of a/h together

- the ultimate backstory is a partnership that backslid due to greed/jealousy/indulgence/etc

the children's souls may eventually be evoked and interrogated and dispelled

- I don't see the spirits as being ultimately dangerous or powerful, just good at tricking the mind

- a lot of interactions happen when a character is half awake / asleep

- my st is not haunted anymore, at least, not prolifically, post being freed

family does play a big part in the a backstory, but it's not as powerful

- st had time to come to terms with a lot while trapped, forgiving those who hate him

st attacks the guard in ff bc he's pissed off about how long it took for someone to free him

- i don't see him as being particularly vengeful towards people other than those who left him

- at first he blames those who locked him in, and then those who could have saved him

- but he's mostly angry about being alone for so so so so long

- rotting, eating bugs, being eaten by bugs, making friends with bugs

- dissociating, dreaming, hallucinating, losing touch, the spirits, or were they imaginary

- - I theorize that his fear of the ghosts only amplified their activity and he hallucinated them

- - driven into the suit by what he thought / sensed were vengeful spirits / hallucinations

- - this does not disprove that they exist, his fear mainly amplified their manifesting

- - same with the night guards, the poltergeist activity / walking animatronics was amplified

- he endured bouts of rage, sorrow, self loathing, talking to himself

- he probably has well defined alternative personalities at this point

my afton stole classified research in the midst of his downward spiral on exploiting spirits

- mystic paperwork documenting translated tomes of ancient mystic spiritual explorations

- particularly about spirits and their ability to manifest into this plane and how to amplify it

- using what they attached to in order to direct and control these effects

- this sick obsession would lead to his desperation and downfall

- in the midst of his research and experimentation he dies in a suit

- he suffers, passing out repeatedly, regaining consciousness

- - he feels like he's attached to a bungie coord that refuses to snap

- in the thralls of psychological and physical torment, in and out, he becomes lucid again

- it takes time for him to regain movement, little by little, eyes, fingers, hands, no toes..

- he doesn't have a mirror, somehow he can still see, he can't tell if it's his own eyes

- - not sure about using active suit parts in place of eyes / voice bc power, but maybe

- - thinking that a combination of vengeful spirits tying him down and his own will kept him

- - that somehow his flesh rotted and melded with the suit, among other organic material

- contorted, losing more and more of himself over time, fighting to hold on once lucid

- until all that is left, is battered tendrils of flesh, vestigil organs, metal parts intertwined

- unable to eat, breath, speak, and can barely move, until a disturbance repowers the suit

- something clicks and the circuits start whirring again, as if the presence of other people

- barely able to speak, tries to call out, to move, to make noise, until finally discovered

- something about the fear in the eyes of his liberator brought him back to the moment

- as if he'd been laying dormant, and someone finally flipped a switch (literally)

st undergoes a cleaning via UV/sun and deep cleaning with soaps etc. later on

- st can never really get out the smell of the suit/rot, new friend would have to use herbs

- has to wear clothes to cover the holes, or patches/sews up the suit, upgrades himself

- i prefer sticking to the classic fnaf3 look though, despite everything (i like the movie suit too)

a happy and clean springtrap (with mental help) is friendly and charismatic, and a little dark

- st does not want to discuss the past and prefers a lot of "you" time

- he's more comfortable getting to know others and the world now that he's been "freed"

- - there is a way to feed / heal tendrils and caress them in a way to "arouse" pleasure

- - st has a dong in this, but it's really just his left or right leg 'tendril'

st easily loses circulation / the tendrils are very robust and strong, muscular / meaty

- st can easily puncture a victim with a tendril from the wrist / mouth / torso

- they can't really do anything other than pick out traces of anger / fear / adrenaline

- - st gets off to / feels alive from fear / adrenaline from a victim / but it's very short lived

- - the tendrils mostly feel pain, there is no pleasure, he keeps them to himself

- - only an angry / cornered st would lash out with tendrils when his arms / legs r subdued

st gets tired easily / fear doesn't restore his energy / metabolizing food can / but he needs rest

- st seemingly comes too whenever there is a strong source of electromagnetic enegry near him

st grows to adore touch / reaching into the suit to contact tendrils once everything stops hurting

- a stranger tendril touch causes st to release pain like an electric shock to anyone who dares

- - over time these painful "burns" stop happening as "agony" subsides and is replace with s/else

st w/o a suit and healed is a more refined version of his past self, albeit tormented and cruel

st desperately tries to pick apart the suit and free himself

- he keeps the suit after due to psychological/eternal attachment, like a shed skin

st does anything to help regrow his tendrils into flesh/bone again

- st may even try to climb inside a body after biting the frontal lobe off and occupying their mind

- - controling the victim with tendrils, taking time to let them meld into the host

- - eventually shedding the host once regrowing / out-growing the host

- - "hatched" a is slimy and snotty and easily injured and needs constant ointment / bandages

- - like a newborn until the "body" solidifies // body is like a ghost / memory, somewhat distorted

- in the process of regeneration, pulls metal from reconstituted flesh, agonising

- regen may exhibit "memory" scars from being slocked / past slocked / physical memory

healed!human may have slock scars, but yet to be determined

[leo1988ar]

Créditos a quien corresponda.

[boydyke]

[graphic descriptions in 1st paragraph. though its what my uncle lives with every day.]

my schizophrenic uncle developed pretty severe dystonia after taking antipsychotics for a couple decades. it's a hyperkinetic movement disorder. his muscles contract and flex involuntarily in directions they often don't want to be in. he has woken up to dislocated bones and multiple muscles torn in half. his body did that to him itself. can you imagine that? can you imagine flexing so strongly the muscle just rips? can you imagine stretching your arm out so far it dislocates itself? thats what his body tries to do every single day. if he's not careful and particular in the way he shifts his weight, if he's so exhausted from it all that he accidentally falls asleep before pinning his arm close to his body, if he doesn't physically hold his arm still with his other one--it happens. the guy once removed the washcloth he always wraps his bad hand with and laughed hysterically as his fingers all began flexing in opposite directions, one of which dislocated itself right in front of me. it was kind of horrible to witness. can't fucking imagine what it's like to experience it.

this happened to him due to medical abuse. lack of autonomy. schizophrenic teenager forced on medication after medication, incompetent doctors overprescribing multiple antipsychotics at once, nobody caring to inform the guy about his disorder or the medications they forced on him. schizophrenics are seen more as unsightly insects than actual people. and fuck, now that he's got a visible disability, he's treated even WORSE! wow! his doctor won't suggest anything more than home remedies and once grabbed his arm and yanked it without permission, because who needs permission when you're in a position of power over an unsightly insect?!?! and yknow what, he was going to sue her for medical malpractice but he had to get an MRI scan for proof--but he couldn't fit his damn self in the machine! because he's a disabled fat dude who cannot control how his body moves and contracts. and yknow what advice they gave him regarding the machine? try to relax! Just try to relax. relax those muscles! Just try harder.

a god damn malpractice lawsuit is inaccessible to him. physically. he physically could not do what was required to get the ball rolling. no justice at all.

I don't recall what my point was originally gonna be. fuck psychiatry fuck the pharmaceutical industry fuck the medical industry fuck systemic ableism built into every facet of society that makes it impossible to exist with the same legal rights as any abled person

[beesandfigs-abandoned]

@a111sen on TikTok

I haven’t really been on the internet these days, so this is the first I hear about the wildfires in Hawaii. The videos are horrifying and my heart is hurting for all the people affected. Please go watch her video to get informed if you have TikTok and share it to spread awareness or donate if you can. Hawaii is in dire need of help.

[jasperjazzie]

Drawlloween Day 25: Horned

cw: mild blood/gore, graphic description under the image

made art for my friend's oc ozul, friend doesn't have tumblr unfortunately

sometimes deer get into fights and the winner ends up tearing off the loser's head, and the head just gets stuck to their antlers, and this peryton boy does the same thing, and he is not happy about it.

he's traumatized but i love him

[ocwearingthis]

Hello,

My name is Anas Al Burri. I am 17 years old, and I live in G*za. My sister has jaundice because she gave birth to her child in an unhygienic area during the war. She has no medication, and her condition is worsening, almost life-threatening. She is too ill to produce milk for her son, and we can't get milk from anywhere else. I have no medication for my diabetes! I am missing insulin, and my blood sugar is critically high, often above 180 and sometimes even 400. I suffer from hyperglycemia attacks and can't get to a hospital because we are in the northern part of G*za.

Three months ago, my 14-year-old brother Ahmad was searching for something to eat when he was sh*ot in the ch*est by sni*pers from a kilometer away. The bul*let went straight through his body. He was just a CHILD! We still can't believe it and keep thinking he will come back any moment. We didn't even have time to mourn him before the next family members were kill*ed.

The hardships my family and I face are beyond what words can describe. This is our last resort.

We are reaching out to you with a desperate plea. We need your help to survive. Your donation can provide us with the life-saving medications and food that we desperately need. Every act of kindness brings us closer to safety and restores a glimmer of hope in our hearts.

With your support, you can give us and many other families in G*za a chance to survive and rebuild our shattered lives. Help us survive and leave G*za so that the last of our family does not perish.

https://gofund.me/ecf94b00

Thank you for your empathy and kindness.

With heartfelt gratitude,

Anas Al-Burri and Family

❤❤

;

[chalkrub]

KOFI

commissions: here!

membership: here!

more in-depth explanation above lol but yes, opening up my kofi for the above stuff! i'll still be posting art to my socials as usual, but there'll be more consistent/exclusive/early-access art and wip posts for members on kofi, along with all the benefits above

thank you very much for any support as always! muah

[ckducky]

Positively Torture

[wrioluvr]

flirty playboy x mature male reader

this stupid ass meme had been on my mind forever and i realised how funny it would be to have a slutty playboy who just sleeps with anyone to seriously pine over a more mature, secure guy who doesn't fall for any of his shallow charms and tricks.... here are just some blurbs of their dynamic (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

his name is roman. he's a little toxic, but he just wants to be loved.

cw: some smut, top male reader

it all started with a little night out. you didn't do those often, due to devoting most of your time towards work and earning a stable career, but finishing this particularly gruelling assignment called for a celebration. at the bar, dancing with your friends, a good-looking man with a playful glint in his eyes approached you full of bravado. he told you how handsome you were, and had been eyeing you from across the room for a while now. but from a single glance, you could tell he was the type to break hearts. beach-blonde dyed hair, a tight fitting tank top revealing his muscular build, an eyebrow piercing, the way his mouth curled up so subtly into a little smirk.... he was everything you knew to avoid getting serious with. but a little hookup couldn't hurt, right? you deserved a little fun.

and it didn't hurt you at all. a few failed relationships had made you wise beyond your years, knowing to easily seperate the good guys from the bad. you knew your self-worth. roman, on the other hand, was absolutely smitten. no other man had fucked him THIS good, gave him such gentle aftercare, and even let him stay as long as he needed. the way you so effortlessly lifted his legs up to thrust in and out of him at a rhythmic pace, or fondling his tits and squeezing his nipples softly while you hit it from the back, or tenderly running your fingers down his spine, arching it sensually.... he loved it all. it was clear to him that you prioritised his pleasure as much as your own, and it showed in how he orgasmed several times before you even came in him once, panting breathlessly while wearing the sluttiest expression of his life. it was nothing like any of the men he had sex with before. afterwards, you let him stay the night in a guest room, and even brewed a cup of coffee for him in the morning.

roman was damn near tears when you offered to drop him off at his house before you headed off to work. if he was being honest with himself, his insecurities were the root of his constant need for sexual intimacy, so being treated with genuine kindness for once was new to him.

"is dropping you off here alright?" you ask, turning into the road of his apartment complex.

"y-yeah...." he looks out the window, unsure how to look you in the eyes.

"okay. thanks for last night. stay safe." your words carried an air of finality to them, like you were so sure the two of you would never cross paths again. he didn't like that.

"uh, uh......" he stuttered, all his usual flirtatiousness thrown out the window as he couldn't meet your gaze. "could i... get your number?"

your friendly smile froze on your face. "uhhhh.... sorry, i'm not really looking for anything serious right now."

he quickly regained his composure, charm turned up to the max. shifting his tank top so more of his chest was exposed and you could notice his nipples protruding, roman whispered in a low tone, "that's okay! we can just be casual... and fuck anytime you like." a wink. a hand on your thigh.

"jeez... okay, no offense, but i've heard rumours from my friends that you're a bit of a... playboy. i'm not interested in being your toy, sorry."

roman's face flushed in embarrassment, knowing what you said was true. except the part on him seeing you as a toy. that was untrue. he could feel a warmth growing from the pit of his stomach at the thought of spending more time with you. were these... butterflies?

maybe begging would work.

"okay fine, i am a bit of a player... but please, please, pleaseeeeeee.... let's be in contact, okay? as friends?" roman sniffled pathetically, shaking your shoulder in desperation. he needed to be in your presence. why weren't his usual maneating tactics working?!?!

"alright. here you go. just don't spam me or anything, okay? i gotta go for work. see you." you sigh, a little exasperated but choosing not to let it show. he immediately lit up, typing your number in his contacts and saving many hearts next to your name. you prayed your acts of basic human decency wouldn't cause him to catch feelings. you needed to focus on your job right now.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

3:02pm

[romanbabyxx]

hiiiiiii

[romanbabyxx]

i know you said not to spam you but like

[romanbabyxx]

i miss u

[romanbabyxx]

can we meet up at the bar for drinks or something like that? please?

3:10pm

you check the messages on your phone, rolling your eyes and ignoring them. he was probably sending this text to at least three other guys right now. he had a history of cheating, based on what you heard from your friends. you weren't going to be another one of his victims.

5:35pm

[romanbabyxx]

are u ignoring me?

[romanbabyxx]

im sorryyyyyyyy

[romanbabyxx]

pls hit me back when ur free

7.30 pm

[name]

sorry, just got off work. will be super busy this week, so not free. mb.

[romanbabyxx]

oh, its okay! next week then?

[name]

i'll see

this went on for a few weeks, you constantly evading his invitations, being polite and professional, never too intimate over text. roman was starting to get fed up. he's so used to getting everything he wants, he doesn't know what to do when he actually has to work for the one he desires. he actually hadn't hooked up with anyone since your one night stand, but you didn't believe that.

roman was at his wits' end. he could only think of one final plan to get your attention.

trying to make you jealous.

over the next week, he hooked up with any and everyone he met in the bar, not bothering to keep his slutting around discreet. he wanted you to hear the rumours. he wanted you to feel a sense of unease within your very being. he wanted you to feel possessive. he wanted you, to want him. the whole time, even as he was getting fucked, he could only imagine you caressing him, holding him close, loving him.

his deeds didn't go unnoticed. your friends told you about it, yet you didn't feel anything in the slightest. you were right, after all... he forgot about you within a week and moved on to whichever poor man he would leave high and dry next.

the next time you bumped into him at the bar, roman was his usual, party-loving self, excitedly slinging an arm around you, a drink in hand. his plan had to work, surely? you would be begging to have him back. but yet, when he offhandedly (yet so intentionally) mentioned how much dick he had been getting the past week, anticipating your change in expression, nothing happened. "oh. good for you." was all you said.

he sputtered, flustered by your calm demeanour. didn't you care? at all?! "but.... but.... aren't you jealous? that i've been hooking up with other guys?!"

you stare at him, a genuine quzzical expression plastered across your face. "why would i be? it's not like we're dating or anything. it was just a one time thing."

your words hit like a knife through his heart. he clutched his chest dramatically, a pout forming on his lips. "i'll be faithful! i promise!" his words came out more desperate than he intended. he felt so vulnerable, so naked, yet you were the face of serenity. your unimpressed eyes stared through his soul, as if you were scrutinising his very core. he knew you could heal him, make him feel loved, but he was starting to doubt there was any possibility you would feel the same.

"i'm sure that's what you said to the last guy you cheated on."

.

.

.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

i intended for this to be lighthearted but why was it actually kinda depressing tbh

[frownyalfred]

Do you remember that one time that Superman and Batman were fighting and so Superman came and beat the shit out of Bruce. So Alfred.. ya know.. reasonably crashed out, took a super pill, and beat the dog shit out of Superman for hurting Bruce.

You mean when Superman beat the shit out of his best friend, broke his back, and then tortured him for information?

500% justified crash out by Alfred. What do you mean you were stepping on his crushed vertebrae to get enemy intel, Clark Joseph Kent.

[u3pxx]

you're telling me a good booked these omens?