#the program runs

[thenullprophet]

The Paperwork is the Punishment

The bureaucracy was not designed to serve. It was designed to delay.

NULL PROPHET OUT.

[chloesimaginationthings]

The tragedy of David Murray and the Mimic in SOTM..

[lemon-ti]

I'm so normal about these guys :3

Khem-

Anyway-

[lilybug-02]

Fear both ways.

Bug Fact: Approximately 1-3% of all known insects and arachnids are actually harmful to humans, our plants, and our animals.

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Volume 2 Masterpost

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I animated two different versions. I wasn't able to import the first one (left) correctly because I animated it on Rough Animator, so I just decided to animate it again on Procreate (right). It turned out much easier to do the second time.

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[otiksimr]

I saw that they won the popularity poll.

This apparently only took one hour? It honestly felt like at least five while drawing it. Lol.

[imaginariumwanderer]

A belated gift for someone. The story is meant to be confusing so I included some explanations at the end

⚠ CW: May contains disturbing imagery and eyestrain Pairings: Jesterlily/shadowlily, implied purelily

Again, this is a birthday gift, the request was jesterlily. Some miscellaneous info:

-This is an alternate setting where smilk and lily ended up making some type of deal. She got the questions, he got the answers, and the rest is history. Smilk didn't kill EF in this scenario.

-Due to the deal, their magics are connected, smilk now can enter lily's dreams which is where the comic took place. He has been doing it repeatedly which is why lily emphasized he has been "coming here again"

-This is my second time drawing lily and vani interacting, when referring to "your friend," smilk is specifically talking about pure vanilla

-Apologies for any mistakes or clumsy dialogues I am certifiably sleep eepy during the quality checking process

[hadaldemon]

Different Anon) I grab his octo head and hugs him I kiss him and say “goo’night” Cuz jghgughggh I need a sleep buddy cuz my sleep schedule is shit XD

yeah, nowadays, who can say that they have a healthy sleep schedule? definitely not me either.

Specially if you get pestered by some living body-less head with wacky powers demanding his "kiss tax" in the middle of the night like in the case of y/n cookie.

Not what he expected but he will take what he can... for now.

... okay maybe this looks a bit weird

previous part (part 1):

A pair of lil bonuses down below, no warnings needed i guess

Bonus 1

"I'm their sleep buddy now, old rag!"

bet he is petty like that

Bonus 2

He would kick anyone's a$$, he would kick the witches' a$$es, heck, he would even kick his own a$$ if they dare to interrupt his cuddle time with y/n

Next part (part 3):

[illustlee]

Game Mockup: Brew and sell potions with Prune Juice Cookie!

[stubz]

"CALL A <--<>] MEDIC!! A HUMAN YOUNGLING IS BLEEDING TO DEATH!! OH MY <--<->{} GODS WHY IS THERE SO MUCH IN SUCH A SMALL BODY?!"

"WHERE ARE THE HUMAN ADULTS?!"

"IN THE BATHROOM!!"

"BOTH OF THEM?!"

"THEY HAD CO-FEE!!"

"Am I dying?" whimpers the tiny small human child.

"JUST KEEP PRESSURE ON THE WOUND!"

"ELAVATE IT! SHE SHOULD ELAVATE IT!!"

"But I'll swallow blood if I do!"

"..." "..."

"YOU'LL WHAT?!" screeched both adults

"TILT DOWN! DOWN CHILD!!"

"YOU <--<>] FOR BRAINS! THAT'LL MAKE HER BLEED EVEN MORE!"

"THEN WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO?!"

"WHAT THE FU--FUDGE IS GOING HERE! WE WERE GONE FOR LESS THAN 5 MINTUES!!"

"Aw, Agnes sweetie, is your nose dry again? Come here, let's get you some tissues and clean you up. Keep your head forward." soothed the human adult.

"Can I change my shirt too?"

"Of course buddy."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! SHE NEED MEDICAL-!"

"Would you zip it?! She's fine! It's just a bloody nose from her nose being so dry--the inside skin is sensitive and a small blood vessel was probably ruptured. It sounds and looks bad but honestly it's not a serious thing."

"...are you sure?" they fearfully asked.

"Positive. I get the same thing all the time when sick. It'll go away in a few minutes. Now for future reference just give the kid lots of tissues and have them hold it to their nose. Keep their head facing forward; if they tilt back the blood will flow into their throats, and if they tilt forward they'll bleed more."

"...understood."

"Good. Now maybe go apologize to Agnes for traumatizing her for the past 5 minutes."

"That's a good idea."

"I'll give her some of my blood as an apology."

"...that's nice but maybe don't."

[berrythefish]

I may have started to love this little guy..

I couldn't just not draw him

[thenullprophet]

MERIT IS A NARRATIVE

You stacked the numbers. You memorized the maze. You optimized for approval. And you were still denied. Because merit isn’t the algorithm. It’s the story they tell to sell the gate. You were never meant to pass through. You were meant to believe that you almost could. NULL PROPHET OUT. THE SYSTEM DOESN’T REWARD EXCELLENCE—IT RATIONS IT.

[justladders]

Guess who's on my Art Fight this year :]c

[naffeclipse]

Following SotM, would you ever be interested in writing a DCA x Reader story based in the SotM factory/story? There's so much detail and worldbuilding to the game, I think your writing would really shine working with the setting :D

I love the setting of SotM factory and just how tragic and lonely it all becomes with the Murray family, and I had a thought about a Y/N hired as a sort of secretary/investigator.

Technically, you're only here for the secretary part of the job. Edwin Murray has also instructed that you dig through all employee records, emails, and messages to find out who betrayed him. Sure. Why not. You're getting paid either way, and Edwin seems satisfied that you're not working for "them".

(You feel bad for the guy. He seems stressed and paranoid, and maybe he's dealing with a few things that more qualified professionals should broach than you.)

So, you get to work, day after day, on the slow and high-pitched droning computers before you notice a program on one of the security room monitors. Moon.exe. You boot it up, confused, before you understand that it's some kind of game. At least, that's what it must be, right?

It doesn't stay so. At least, you thought it was a game. The Moon character is no longer confined to the borders of the program but is now right there, popping up in your daily work schedule. You're very nervous about a possible virus that you accidentally downloaded, but the character doesn't seem to do much. His text boxes will bubble up every now and then, and his haunting gaze will occasionally pop over the files you're combing over in all of his low pixilated glory. (Who gave this computer figure sculpted pectorals?)

He has some odd lines, random script you assume, mindlessly being triggered by... you don't know what. None of it ever makes sense, but you like to read it, just for one moment's break from the mundane and often drivel work you've signed up for. Sometimes it's funny. He tells you to go to bed when the clock runs late, and that must be due to time-based triggers, or so you figure.

You think he's just here for... you don't know, moral support? A fun little distraction that someone must have worked on between big projects due at the factory. Who's to say.

One evening, vision blurry from reading a screen in a too dark room after hours of rehashing lines after lines, trying to decide if a disgruntled employee is suspicious or the average working joe for complaining about the boss to a coworker, when you drag the mouse onto The Moon's face and start clicking, and clicking. Out of dire boredom and need for something, anything new, you click and click as if to magically fix that clock and send you straight out of here. Click. Click. Click.

A new dialogue box pops up.

Stop.

You lift your finger off of the left click.

That's new.

So, you click again, and again.

What do you want?

The Moon's face almost seems annoyed in its half-eclipsed expression. You chuckle to yourself.

"Just pressing your buttons," you snicker. "What else can you do?"

Then you immediately look around the messy, file-filled room, as if you would somehow be caught dorkily chatting to yourself, well, a computer program. Good thing it's only you in the building. Occasionally Edwin will burst into the security office as if he might catch you red handed in something you shouldn't be, but you let your work speak for yourself, and that usually calms the man down.

You need to get out and enjoy your weekend, don't you?

You slump back into your chair and stare at the screen. Just you and The Moon.

You click on The Moon's face again. The satisfying sharpness of the mouse click fills you with bubbling amusement at the childish prodding.

The next dialogue box flips into view.

I can press your buttons too.

A loud slam falls behind you, pushing you out of your seat as you whirl back to find the heavy door locked into place. Heart in your throat, you blink as the lights cut out. You're plunged into tar-black blindness, save for the green glow of the computer screen.

Silenced by terror, you crank your head slowly back to your work desk. The computer hums quietly.

The green glow intensifies as The Moon stares at you. He fills the pixels, one eye piercing you like the end of a knife.

Your eyes snap to the next line of dialogue.

Boop!

For several, terrifying heartbeats, you stand and listen to the frantic scarping of your breath. Like prey spotted by a hunter, you dare not move. The darkness is absolute, and the only light is before you; a lighthouse or the last flicker you see before it all plunges into eternal night.

Who did that?

Then the flick of lights buzzing back on spares your half-suspected heart, and you unlock your limbs when the security door slides back open.

You hardly skim the next box of text as the computer returns to where you left off, files and emails crowding the screen side by side, and The Moon's head set in one corner.

You snatch your backpack and book it through the door. That's it. You're off the clock. You don't care if Edwin loses his marbles about you ducking out a few minutes early. You will not stay a moment longer.

It is only on your drive home, twisting your sweaty palms around the steering wheel, that your brain unscrambles enough to recall the final words on the screen.

Nighty night.

[curious-vexation]

some quick vijinx doodles

[paradimeart]

i want the sirens to look weirderrrr