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-Gorebruary 2023-

Week 3

Let’s just go-

Day 15/Ritual: self harm, blood, satanic/religious imagery, mild nudity

Day 16/Sewn Together: stitches, mild blood

Day 17/Holy imagery: Religious imagery, heavy themes of suicide, mild body horror, visible self harm, mild nudity

Day 18/Starved: Blood, mild body horror, depictions of a dead animal

Day 19/Trapped: Lots of blood, mild body horror, stitches, barbed wire

Day 20/“Anything for you”: Lots of blood, organs, satanic themes

Day 21/Wonderland/ Blood, mild body horror, eye strain

“Desperation really did drive people mad, didn't it?

He guessed that it wasn't really his place to say, and he couldn't find it within him to actually care- or find it within him to feel anything.

Was this going to really work? Well, he didn't really know.

Was he going to try anyway? Yes, yes, yes.

As he shrugged the smooth, silky fabric from his shoulders, he came to a strange realization; he never really loved Martha, but he loved the idea of a family, and he really didn't need her to have one.

This wasn't for Martha; this was for his dear little Annecy.”

PN: I’m both happy and unhappy with how this came out. The colors are nice and the shading on the fabric is perfect, but the proportions are a bit iffy and the background was done super quickly because I was running out of time. It’s a solid piece on its own, I’ll give it that.

“There, now you’ll understand that when I make a threat, I mean it. Enjoy staying like this until I’m done! When will I be done? Who knows! Have fun!”

PN: Hate this one, hate everything about it. I hate the story, the art, the proportions, and the background. There’s not one single bit of this piece that I like.

“Luke 15:18; 18:13

Father, I have sinned against you and am not worthy to be called your son.

Be merciful to me, a sinner.

Father of mercy, like the prodigal son

I return to you and say:

“I have sinned against you and am no longer worthy to be called your son”

Christ Jesus, savior of the world,

I pray with the repentant thief to whom you promised paradise:

“Lord, remember me in your kingdom”

Holy Spirit, fountain of love,

I call on you with trust:

“Purify my heart, and help me walk as a child of the light”

PN: I wish I had more to say on this piece, but I just don’t remember what I’d had in mind. I wonder if redrawing it would make me remember.

“Red, all he could see was red. A metallic tang stung his mouth, and something was in his hands. It felt soft, but something else was digging into his fingers. It felt like small… shards?

What had he been doing?

He'd-he'd been at the window! He was feeling… homesick? No, but something similar. He’d just wanted to take a look outside. It had been such a nice day. It was so nice that he opened the window for some fresh air. It felt so stuffy in his room, he needed something fresh.

Then, a large bird landed on his window sill. It was brownish, and far too large to be a normal bird. It stared at him with those big, delectable eyes and.. and…

Why was he so fucking hungry?

He couldn't remember the last time he ate. His stomach seemed to twist and rumble, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so fucking hungry. Even though he was chewing on some meat, coughing out some feathers, he still felt…

No.

NONONONONO-

His vision blurs, and he realizes that he's crying. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and the static sound in his head was getting louder and louder by the second He couldn't think, and he just couldn't stop chewing-

Someone knocked on the door.

He was so, so hungry.”

PN: Sorry Eli, I made Freddy eat your bird. Yeah I don’t like this piece all too much but it’s whatever. I’d probably remake it entirely if I wanted to.

“I had that dream again.

Just like last time, I was nude, tied to a metal bed frame, bleeding and in so much pain. Barbed wire was digging into my skin, wrapped around my fingers, neck, arms and legs, and I couldn’t move. If I tried to move my hands, it would sink deeper into my neck, and more blood would come pouring from my mouth, almost endlessly.

But, something was different. My chest ached but also felt hollow. I only noticed this once I felt something writhing in there, pressing against my ribs and grabbing at my stomach, yet never hurting me. I tried to look down, but my eyes wouldn’t cooperate, staying rolled up and looking at the rusty, decaying ceiling.

I still can’t describe the room all that well, considering I can hardly even see it. I can tell by the way it echoes the dripping of my blood to the floor that it's a very big, but empty room. I seem to be strung to the ceiling, almost akin to an art piece on display. But why? Why am I in this situation? Is this some sort of punishment?

If it is, I'm not all that surprised.

Unexpectedly, I heard footsteps. It sounded like boots clunking against rotting metal, and it was rapidly approaching. But, before they opened the door, I woke up.

I don't know if it's my mind playing tricks on me, but my neck and wrists feel so sore and look red. It must just be a strange rash, probably caused by stress. Nothing I can't handle.

Admittedly, I feel almost haunted by that dream. I woke up at about 4 in the morning, and I haven't been able to sleep since. I just can't seem to shake off how real it felt, as if I was really there, and I can't help but wonder: is this a warning of some kind?”

PN: in sharp contrast to how I feel on the rest of these pieces, I LOVE THIS ONE. The grunge, the colors, the background, everything about it is so good. I wanted a silent hill and I managed to get it. I love that piece so much I just. Also, I just checked the og Instagram description and apparently I’d straight up abandoned the original sketch for this prompt because I’d been watching silent hill videos. I’m gonna post the sketches themselves afterward I’ve posted all of these so you’ll see what the og one was!

“Happy 6th birthday, my dearest little Annecy!”

“Woah! That’s so much food! I haven’t had this much in years! Thank you daddy, thank you so much!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, sweetie. I only wish to give you the best.”

“I know- oh this tastes so good! But I have question”

“Oh? What is it?”

“So… you mentioned that Mommy had a daughter before me- Lisa, I think?”

“Um- yes, she- she did.”

“Where did she go?”

“She left Lisa behind to be with her father, but then he burned himself alive and she- I think she was sent to the orphanage? I lost track of her a while back.”

“Can you find her?”

“Oh, you know I can dear. May I ask why your so curious about her?”

“I- I want a sister! I promise I won’t bite her or eat her or force her to eat anything! I mean, we’re actually sisters, so she should live here! Oh please please please-“

“Annecy, you know I can’t say no to you, especially on your birthday”

“So you’ll find her?”

“Yes my dear, anything for you”

PN: I’m very iffy about this one. I only really like the background. If I redrew this, I’d just take the background from the og image. Work smarter not harder. Also this is a follow up to ritual.

“Would you like a cup of tea? Or maybe just half a cup?”

PN: I like this one, would probs redraw or make into a sticker or something idk

Anyways see you guys in an indeterminate amount of days later bye-

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Part 2 of the comic I uploaded yesterday

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-floods the room with corn-

what am i even supposed to do with this

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yeah they're not doing that

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I made this cuz I just imagine these 3 interacting in a single court case, and I just think it will exactly feel like that spongebob scene...but with jack killing keigan at the end😭😭😭

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-Gorebruary 2023-

Week 2

Heyo! Let’s get to it so that tumblr doesn’t want me dead. Now, onto the content warning!

Day 8/Too many teeth: Body horror, blood, open wounds

Day 9/Freakshow: Body horror, blood, stitches

Day 10/Drowned: Lots of blood

Day 11/Dissected: body horror, eye strain

Day 12/So many eyes: body horror, ommetaphobia, eye strain

13/Cannibalism: Blood, open wounds, visible organs, shaking (for the video portion)

14/Love: Eye strain, visible bruising, visible self harm, blood, organs

“Hyperdontia:

Hyperdontia is the condition of having supernumerary teeth, or teeth that appear in addition to the regular number of teeth (32 in the average adult). They can appear in any area of the dental arch and can affect any dental organ”

PN: I messed up the ordering on this one. This prompt was meant to come AFTER the next one. I also am so mixed about this one. I feel like I could’ve done much better, maybe lean less on the blood and more the body horror. I guess I like the coloring?

"-and here we have our "weeping groom"! Oh? Yeah, that's a guy. Legend has it he's been waiting so long for his lover at the altar, that he kinda forgot it he was the bride or not, and-hey, stop knocking on the glass, he doesn't like that"

"How did he get like that? Well, we don't actually know, we found him like this and took him in, and he just keeps waiting, constantly. He never stops waiting. It's... actually kinda tragic... Now, this freakshow has come to an end. The exit is right behind you, please throw away your garbage in the appropriate spot, and we hope you'll visit again!"

“…um, are you gonna leave or-oh, the blood? It's just decoration, he's not in any actual pain or whatever-hey, I said to stop knocking on the glass! If you really give that much of a shit about him, you'd not do that! Now, get the fuck out before I call security."

"Fuckin' kids- had to install that window because people would throw cigarettes at him- who's the real monster, those fucks or this innocent man? Anyways, let's get you cleaned up and taken to your room, okay bud?"

PN: there’s an au behind this one I just haven’t explored it yet. I also have had a redraw of this on the backseat for fuckin’ ages. I worked really hard on this one anyway.

“No one really knows what happened, when it happened, or even who did it, but it was poor Tracy who came across his corpse first. You swore you could still hear her scream ringing in the air, petrified in a way she'd never been before. Poor girl.

Rusty, spear-like pole to the neck. That's one hell of a way to go. Probably snapped his neck in two, but the blood on his fingers seemed to indicate it didn't fully kill him. It must've been agonizing, and you couldn't help but cringe as you wrote your report.

You already suspected one of the hunters had something to do with it, but who specifically? Hell If you knew.

You knew you were going to have to skip dinner, too afraid you'd empty your guts out on the floor, when you finally noticed the poof of blood in his mouth, and you realized that he, probably in a panic and desperately trying to call for help, choked and drowned in his own blood.

You kept that out of the report. You wanted to forget about this as soon as you could, if just for the sake of your own mental health.”

PN: I both really like and really don’t like this specific image, and it’s hard to explain why. I feel like the angling is a little wonky. Also an OC is writing the report and I might show the OC later.

“Curiosity killed the cat.

Freddy had an issue at letting go, leaving stones unturned and just walking away. It was almost like an itch, maybe even a rash, and he couldn't resist it. He'd scratch and scratch till he clawed his skin open, and he wouldn't stop until he finally got the answer. He knew he'd regret it once it was over, especially if he saw something he couldn't forget, but now he could let it go.

These periods of destructive curiosity were on and off, always something new and always something that would hurt him once it was all over. He'd do it to stories, or people; over analyzing and picking apart every aspect until he was too frail from over exhaustion to continue. It was easier with stories, and it was exhausting with people. It was even worse with himself.

It was only when he looked at himself did he realize how little he thought about his actions, how little thought went into his actions, and suddenly it mattered so much he felt like he was going to fall apart. It was a frenzy; he was practically ripping himself open, claws he didn't know he had sinking into his flesh and just tearing it away. His hands shook terribly, but he couldn’t stop. He had to know.

It wasn’t until he was done dissecting everything about himself did he realize the damage, but it was too late to take anything back. He felt so fucking hollow it made him dizzy. The world seemed to spin around him, yet it was too late.

He couldn't take it back, and by god he wished he could.”

PN: not happy with this one. Even the sketch for this one was weak and I just can’t find anything good about it. I wish I tried a little harder.

“Maybe it’s a little out of line, but I can’t stop staring at you.

You’re so pretty, like a blooming rose.

I can’t let this chance pass me by.

So, I’ll say it:

I love you.

Will you be mine?”

PN: I like this one! I don’t have too much to say other than that unfortunately.

PN: this is literally just the PV for “The spider and the Kitsune-like lion” by MASA. I have super mixed feelings about this one because I feel like I didn’t try hard enough. The body is fine but the head is just iffy. If I redrew it I’d try much harder.

WARNING:

This story contains:

Depictions/ descriptions of self harm

Depictions/ descriptions of violence

Mental Breakdowns

Mental health struggles

“He couldn't do this again.

It hurt, it hurt so much. It sunk its rotten daws into his shriveled heart, and the way it tugged it down- it was too much.

He promised he wouldn’t do this again, to dare let this feeling take over him. It nearly brought him to tears every time he glanced down at the ring on his finger, a golden band that reflected his pathetic expression. Sometimes, he swore that his expression would narrow its eyes at him, disgusted. It nearly made him want to take it off but that only hurt more.

In desperation, he locked himself away. He hardly left his room, only leaving when he needed to, and praying no one noticed his puffy eyes and his red cheeks. Humiliatingly, he found himself bursting into tears at the drop of a dime. He was practically weeping his way through the day, and it was getting harder to hide.

That damned feeling stil lingered, stood at his doorway and just stared. It flexed its claws and grinned a toothy grin, eyes narrowed in a forced attempt at a smile. "You can't ignore me forever" it sang rapping its blistered knuckles against his nightstand as he tried to sleep "there's no point: I'm not leaving"

It was true, and he hated it. A reality he couldn't deny was a cruel punishment, but maybe he deserved it.

As the days went by, he only got worse. He wouldn't eat, he'd bang his head against his desk until he was too faint to continue, he'd scratch at his neck and shoulders and chest, wishing he could just rip himself open and be done with it all sometimes, he'd wrap his fingers aroundhis neck and just squeeze. It was almost cathartic when his vision started to darken, when his mind began to twirl and his heart seemed to scratch desperately at his flesh. He'd always let go, but then he'd do it again and again.

But, every action has a consequence, and his was the various marks his injuries would leave behind. Bruises and cuts on his forehead, blood smeared underneath his nose, the growing red stains where he'd been too tired to clean up his wounds and let them bleed into his shirt, and the deep, reddish prints his palms left behind. A beautiful portrait of his suffering.

The others were starting to notice; Lingering stares followed his every movement when he occasionally snuck out of his room. It made his skin crawl every time they opened their mouths, as if they wanted to say something, only to decide against it and just give him a look, almast a silent plea for him to just stop.

Every time, he'd paused in consideration. He'd look down at himself, down at the dried blood on the underside of his fingernails, and he'd want to end all of this.

Then, he'd look up and see them. His heart, his treacherous, bastard heart would dare to beat, and it was like he was pushed back into the water. And, as he drowned, he'd chuckle to himself, suddenly remembering words he would bitterly growl to himself as a pathetic method of comfort he'd turn to when the dark, lonely nights became unbearable:

“What's called romance is nothing but fooling oneself before foding others"

What a hypocrite.

With the cycle starting all over again, he'd let his mind entertain fantasies of his fingers, having finally sunk deep enough into his chest to rip it open, grasped and finally tore out that tell tale heart, and he'd smile as he imagined himself floating away into a red sea, happy.

What a terrible thing: to be in love.”

PN: Love the story, hate the image. It fails to convey the pain I wanted it to and it just doesn’t stand up on its own. It seems like a first draft, and I'm so disappointed in it. Also, the love in this story is meant to be towards Kreacher but I kept it vague enough to be anyone. I think it makes the story stronger.

Alrighty, see you guys soon!

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HOW MANY TIMES DO WE NEED TO TEACH YOU THIS LESSON

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Alice & Alice

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Freddy as a father figure to Helena for @kirblovestopoyo ! thank you for the cute req!! ; v ;

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experiencing Freddy Riley brainrot rn,,

no one can tell me he’s a piece of shit since I heavily kin him

his voice is also really cool but it doesn’t fit with his character model

like WHY tf did netease give a man w/ buck teeth a BEAUTIFUL voice?? I don’t get it

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i forgot i made this for his bday

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I’m trying to do a small little project involving Identity V characters as Alice in Wonderland characters! I have two finished so far! 8  more to go!

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Freddy Riley brainrot hours

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rarepair / platonic reqs from insta !

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hubris

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do we need to establish the A.L.B.A (anti lawyer beam association)

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rewatched hnk anime and was filled wth the primal urge to do lighting practice which of course turned into freddy because i am a weak man