nodefinition-found

[nodefinition-found]

ׂ╰ ❝ 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝? — 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 ? ❞ `

:; — Empty words spewed from hurt cannot be unsaid. They already know "hate" no longer has the same meaning. Can the dead man even pretend to be surprised? Eyes blurring the horrific image of what used to be brother beneath as he tries to blink away tears. He doesn't deserve to cry, not after he could have left but chose to stay. Why does he stare at his hands in horror, as if he wasn't the one controlling them, as if this wasn't a decision and just another mistake? Fingers gripping so tightly there's bruises in their place, teeth stained with blood that is no longer his own. His innocence is long gone, who he was erased.

So far gone, eyes blown from the adrenaline. Patchy fingers traced every scar as if he hadn't already memorized them—he put them there, etched into flesh like a branding. Is the monster even a wolf anymore when he doesn't eat the prey? Instead, just clawing open every healing wound and licking the tendons until the flesh is numb. What wolf provokes the prey to violence just so it can be beaten bloody? Covered in bites and bruises that he will repay with his own. The other used to be so tactile with the pain he inflicted—bullet holes and quick strikes, slow to anger and righteous—but now it is frantic and desperate with shaking hands and bared teeth to mirror that of the mutt's.

Neither of them has ever stopped the other, afraid of losing the only thing that kills the mind and brings the body back to life. Pushing each other further and further, nothing sets them off like the other. Nothing satisfies the violence inside them like one another. Tethered by a hatred so passionate it might as well be love, if violence is all they know then violence it will be. Anything but letting go.

Dizzy with adrenaline, sometimes he lets Liu win. An open invitation for that broken little dove to beat him into the dirt until he can't stand and those leather gloves are stained with scarlet. It feels like being executed by an Angel—clean and perfect, and just. What should elicit fear only evokes a high more addicting than the bloodlust, so like an addict he watches as that spectacle of divine judgement stands above him and spreads its mangled wings to deliver the final blow. He would slit his throat on that halo.

'He looks good covered in bruises,' but Jeff thinks he looks better covered in the blood of sinners.

This took me like 90+ hours and I still have rendering to do on the second page that wasn't included.

[nodefinition-found]

Something I am still working on animating but wanted to share anyways because I am getting restless. They have me by the throat, I will never escape my Creepypasta phase 😔

ft. a short character interaction analysis I did on a instagram story because unhealthy relationships/dynamics intrigue me.

[nodefinition-found]

Not really in the fandom, but I felt like they didn't really do Angel Dust justice. They could have gone so many different directions with the whole spider theme, but instead it was just wasted potential in favor of fanservice. Not that I did any better because the shading is all messed up 😔

Angel Dust Headcanons:

TW: everything you would expect to be in Hell 💀

• His skin is sort of patchy. It may be some kind of makeup used to accentuate certain features of his like his thighs and face, but it's unknown because he's never clarified.

• Still a porn star, but the porn he stars in is very open about its abuse. Everyone knows what Valentino did to him and very few care—in fact most of Hell didn't even bat an eye, and the ones who did were only blinking because they didn't want to miss what happened next. It's not flashing lights and shitty acting, there is no script; once the camera is on you do everything in your power to survive what is being done to you, or make sure you are the one doing it. Hell is very open about sexual depravity and evil; it has nothing to hide because the ones who are there, are there for a reason.

• Not just a "power bottom." His extra limbs make it easier to restrain and subdue people, no way is Valentino letting that go to waste.

• What started out as a fight for survival became a desperate attempt to keep feeding the addiction he developed towards lust. At first he just didn't want to be eaten alive by this cruel place, but eventually he realized he needed to eat too.

• Like most of the other residents of the Hotel, he does not want to be saved. The desire to stay broken and sick, as long as it means he does not have to let go of his vice, is enough temptation to ignore all of Charlie's attempts. Sometimes, he'll try, pretend that he's trying, but deep down there is something that keeps pulling him to art of self destruction.

• Charlie is someone he doesn't understand. To think anyone here is worth saving boggles his mind; none of them are worthy, all of them are here for a reason. There is no redemption; they had their choice and they chose wrong, and everyone who ended up here would do it again if they were given a second chance. Why she would waste her time trying to save the ones who don't even want to be saved doesn't make sense to him.

• Extra eyes, baby—one of them was gouged out by Valentino. Back when Angel was still new, he was subject to the worst abuse imaginable—everyone loved seeing the new "tender piece of meat" get beaten and defiled.

[nodefinition-found]

✒️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ character lore ࿐ྂ

If you enjoy my drawings and ideas, feel free to follow on Instagram @service_unavailable. I post a lot more on there than I do here :')

┏━━━━━━✦❘༻˚₊‧𓆩 𓂋 𓆪‧₊°༺❘✦━━━━━━┓

✞ - "Dina" is not actually her given name; it was given to her after escaping from the cult she was born to and receiving the sword of The Spirit. It is unknown what the name given to her by her mother and father was, she has never spoken it and never will.

✞ - She was born to a cult somewhere in Sweden. Swedish is her native tongue, though she chooses to speak in old English. Very rarely does she speak in her mother language, and because she is not fluent in English she is a person of very little words.

✞ - In many ways, she is still like a child. Though having suffered at the hands of humanity, she desperately wants to save even the worst. Naive to how hardened the hearts of human beings can become, she pleaded with the ones who tortured her to turn away from sin. Even as Helen was dying in her arms, brought to death's door by the cult she was born to, she tilted her head back and cried to the heavens, begging God to have mercy on them for they know not what they do.

✞ - Her sword is more of a shield than a weapon, deflecting attacks and cleaving through the shadows trying to consume her. The only blood she sheds is from her heart, bleeding for the lost and the damned, the ones whom choose evil though they have such capacity for good.

✞ - She has been witness to horrors that will haunt her every time she closes her eyes. She has seen her pastor stoned on a cross, first born children murdered by the mothers who gave them life. The cries of infants as they are thrown to the fire, screaming animals as they are skinned alive and flayed over hot coals.

✞ - Creatures like the Slenderman and Zalgo often flee from her like they do with Lyet and Liu.

Something inside of Eyeless Jack can usually sense her presence when she is near, and it evokes a sense of fear yet desire to draw nearer - if she were to stand face to face with him, the whispers he hears within his mind would go silent.

Laughing Jack is weary around her. She can see him despite not having touched his music box, though she does not speak to him.

Nurse Anne calls her "rabbit" and Locklear calls her "hare." Anne met her in the abandoned ruins of an old hospital. Something inside of decaying body wanted to destroy the visage of purity before her, as if its very existence was a threat.

Liu regards her with deep respect and admiration. She suffered worse than he, yet she did not fall victim to her own pain. Without question, she carried her sword as if it were a cross.

Lyet treats her as if she were his sister. He was what lead her through the woods to the abandoned Church, a spiral of blue energy lighting the way. She is the judge to his executioner, the one who pleaded for his redemption after the fall. He is not worthy to serve this cause, nor is anyone else she saved after him. But her? If any human being were to be worthy of carrying a blade so pure, delivering the message of salvation; it is her.

Helen did not believe God could love him, not after everything he had gome through and everything he had done because of it. But when he met Dina, looking into her eyes was like witnessing the expanse of eternity itself. He had no need to lift his eyes to the heavens when galaxies were held within eyes fuller than the night sky. He would follow her until he died, and he did.

✞ - Despite the fury inside her, a passion for judgement and retribution against the evils committed in this fallen world burning within - her heart is soft, searching for the good she knows every human being possesses. She is capable of execution if that is what is asked of her, but she is often used as a messenger and a savior; the one who appears as a judge who gives the opportunity of repentance to the accused before facing their executioner.

┗━━━━━━✦❘༻˚₊‧𓆩 𓂋 𓆪‧₊°༺❘✦━━━━━━┛

[nodefinition-found]

✒️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ lore & story-based text post ࿐ྂ

⚠️

ׂ╰┈➤ -ˏˋ !! TRIGGER WARNING !! ˊˎ- ────────╮

[ Just don't read it if you aren't comfortable with genuinely unsettling themes commonly found in Creepypasta/horror. ]

"It's fucking disgusting."

╔──── ⋅ ⋅ ───═━┈✦❘༻🪦༺❘✦┈━═─── ⋅ ⋅ ────╗

No drawl this time. No sneer, not a hint of snark or that grin when the words role off his tongue in an erotic fashion. No, there is no lust here, nothing to be perverted. Just... defeat, like he's given up on pretending it's what he wants. To try and be free, only to be enslaved by the very thing you thought would bring freedom. Disgusting how his own body betrays him, how his own mind defiles him. How everything feels hot when it shouldn't, every word sounds so seductive, every touch leaves tingles.

Yearning for the nausea, he hates it but it is all his hands reach for. Like a dog returns to its vomit, a fool returns to his folly, he had been told. It stuck with him, for some reason, ironic how it applies to him now.

"... It isn't your fault," his brother repeats, as if he would believe. What good does that do him now, what does that even mean? What's done is done, his fault or not it still happened and nothing will change that. Stuck in flesh that craves what decays the soul, scream as loud as he can inside this cage of bone but it's drowned out by the searing heat that burns so hot it itches. Cut off the rotting parts, bleed out the filth, scrub until the skin is tearing and when that stops working, use bleach and fire instead. Anything to be clean again, anything to erase the bruises.

All these fucking people with their pity. NOW they tell him he didn't deserve it, but what good does that do now? Why was it his fault when he was a child, but now that he's damaged and broken, and stuck with everything they forced into every hole, it's not his fault? What a sick fucking joke, where do people get off on suddenly pretending they care. Someone must be laughing right now, watching with enraptured attention at the dumpster fire that is this life.

"Doesn't matter," not anymore. Maybe it never did he doesn't know, he never paid attention to that - not after mom and dad told him to shut up. Not after his bloody knees stained the concrete, tears and snot and ripped off nails that were numbed by the tearing pain inside his body. It didn't matter, doesn't matter. All he knows is it's easier to swallow if you're thirsty, easier to chew if you're starving. Pretend you have a choice, otherwise you're just trapped again right back where you started. Otherwise you're just another victim, and he is not a victim.

"... You... won't heal if you keep picking at the wounds. You know that." That's the point, isn't it? He doesn't want to heal. Doesn't deserve it. But he doesn't think about that, it's too much self loathing, too much arrogance too much self-absorbed bullshit. So he doesn't think about it that deeply. Violence is what he knows, pain is what he craves. This body is just a vessel for him to get what he desires, it's never that deep nothing is ever that serious.

"It ain't that deep. Life fucks you, ya just gotta change the position n' enjoy it, little brother." There's that drawl again. The one that hides just how disgusted he is with everything, everyone. The one that masks the urge to vomit with every word, masks the guilt and regret and pain, misguided anger that dulls the shame.

╚──── ⋅ ⋅ ───═━┈✦❘༻🔪༺❘✦┈━═─── ⋅ ⋅ ────╝

[nodefinition-found]

🪦🔪 :; Brothers in the Night

ft. a cosplay a friend and I did :)

There has always been something that is tantalizing about Jeff and Liu's dynamic. It keeps me coming back looking for more, searching for new perspectives and crevices to explore and exploit.

The anguish within the eyes of a victim - betrayal at the hands of the one who was once your best friend. The rage that turned his brother into the monster who killed him - a brother who destroyed the very thing he was trying to protect. The pain and trauma that shaped them into who they are, and love that runs deeper than the blood they shed desperately trying to prove they are more than the newspaper clippings on the bulletin board.

There is an addictive kind of pain that they portray - the one where you love the way it hurts and love the one who hurts you even more. It damages you just enough you're broken, but not enough to keep you from growing comfortable within the familiarity. The bruises they leave feel like kisses, the scars like poems of affection written in your flesh - branded, marked, loved enough to be claimed. A barrel of a gun becomes a cupid's bow, a knife in your heart becomes the only thing that can make it beat. It is all you know, the only language you share - and to stop speaking it, would mean to let go of the reason you choose to live. Your purpose.

"I hate you," is what they both spew with vitriol and venom, but behind the animosity are promises to live and die hand in hand.

"I love you," is what they mean but never say because those words are foreign on tongues that have only ever been bitten.

Two fates tied together by a shared suffering, the sole survivors of a massacre that took more than just their lives. There is no freedom, even though one kills to be free. And there is no closure, even though the other kills to find peace. It is only an endless cycle of violence - bloody teeth on split knuckles and broken bones under rough hands - because if they were to end this suffering, then they would be alone. How could they ever let go of the other, when that is all they have left?

Liu may have died alone, and Jeff burned with no one to hear his screams in the smoke. But together, they live as a monster and a martyr. A devil and its hound. Brothers that have carved their names into the other's heart.

[nodefinition-found]

- One in the Same -

Some said it was fate that things ended up the way they did; Liu, choking on his own blood while his brother drove a blade through his gut. Incidentally, it also pierced his heart.

"I will never forgive you, you know." I hate you.

And there is some truth to that. Maybe he will never fully forgive the other for the life he destroyed, for the brother he took and the boy he killed that night in December. But like many things in their family, words are only words and can be just as empty as the barrel of a gun; actions are what speak louder than any scream.

"... That makes two of us." I know.

Two of the same kind, one in the same. No one would ever understand them quite like the other does, no one could even begin to replace the hole that would be left behind were the other to die. And, really, isn't that the goal? To kill the other, to be the one to pull the trigger or deliver the final blow. But somewhere along the way, the lines became blurred and the end started to extend further and further until it was no longer in sight. Eventually there was no end; no goal. A game with no winner, because to win would mean to lose and to lose would mean to never truly have played at all and how can you truly win when you lose what made you victorious?

"Don't be so arrogant to think you could ever understand; we are nothing alike." I really do.

But alike they are, no matter how hard they try to tear themselves from one another. For each have been betrayed and been the betrayer, each have been the victim and the killer. The same mind, different breeds. One holds a knife to the throat, the other a gun to the head. Dangerous in different ways but they share the same sadistic gaze, because one would not be here without the hand the other played in the events that had to unfold for their destinies to be set in motion and intertwined for the rest of their lives.

"Really? 'Cause for a while I thought you were just my reflection." I love you too.

A reflection of the past, of what he was and will never be again; for Jeff can see everything he desperately tried to kill inside of Liu's eyes, and Liu can see everything he is terrified to become inside of Jeff. Perhaps that is why - try as they might - can never end the other, because to end the other would be to end themselves and everything they used to love.

"And for a while I thought you were my brother. But we both know how wrong I was." ... I know.

[nodefinition-found]

- pink chalk -

Song ; i threw glass at my friend and now i'm on probation - destroy boys

It's not even really about love, is it? Because love has become a relative term; subjective rather than objective. The meaning of "love" no longer matters when the standard is so fickle. She loves him no more than he loves her, but that matters very little when obsession is confused for love. Not many can notice the difference, it seems.

There is a difference between "want" and "need" as well, but she doesn't see that either. She doesn't always want what she needs, and what she needs is not always what she wants. This is why they can sit side by side and share their broken pieces, but they'll never be able to share a heart.

"The heart wants what the heart wants," she was always told. "Always listen to your heart," but no one ever told her it would hurt so much. No one ever warned her that the heart was just as deceitful as the mind.

She can smile at him with love in her eyes and a stomach full of butterflies, but he will never offer what he does not have to give.

[nodefinition-found]

- Make it Hurt -

Song ; make it hurt - demon in me

A bullet through a hollow chest ; a knife through a bleeding heart. They only ever knew how to hurt, perhaps it was all they had been taught. Affection was a foreign concept; bruises were kisses and scars were promises. But to Jeff, there was nothing more intimate than looking into the eyes of his brother as a bullet - his bullet - pierces through the flesh of his very being to kill the evil living inside. To Liu, there was no stronger act of love than to sacrifice himself to raise someone from their sin, to absolve someone of every evil act they've committed. A beautiful kind of injustice, really; to fall from grace just to drag someone back up with him when he manages to claw his way out of perdition. It took him a very long time to understand that he had been looking in all the wrong places, for only in death did he find salvation, and in death shall his brother find it as well.

[nodefinition-found]

- The Death of Peace of Mind -

An inferno is quite a sight to behold. There are always victims, bystanders, and the arsonist.

The arsonist is the one who sets fire to the city, who lights the match and throws it in the grass. Never mind the reason why; that becomes of very little importance once the first bystander becomes a victim.

The first victims will scream and plead with the fire, as if it could ever be reasoned with. Quite often there is no reason for why they were chosen first, but even if there was the fire will never say. Perhaps it was God who needed this for his plan, or perhaps it just happened because this is a world where bad things happen more often than not. One will hear the screams of his family and eventually the flames will reach him, and only then will be try to fight them but by then it is far too late and eventually he realizes that. Buried in soot and ash, he will claw his way out from a shallow grave. He will lose the battle but win the war.

The second victim, however; that was intentional. She, too, will try and fight the fire and lose. Except she will not win the war. She will be burned alive and have to drag herself over hot coals to reach safety. The scarred epidermis covering her flesh will be a reminder of her failure and there will be nothing that can satiate the thirst for vengeance. She will never be the same after, and eventually she will set a fire of her own.

The bystanders, however; they are no victims. The bystanders will watch as the blaze spreads and the world burns, but stay just out of reach. One of them, however, will gaze upon the inferno too hot to touch with admiration and awe. The embers in her eyes will glow as bright as her desire and the smoke will make her choke, but she will never step away to breathe. Closer and closer she will try to get, until she discovers that the only way to stay is to also burn. Eventually, she will throw herself to the flames and revel in its warm embrace as it consumes her. There will be nothing left but charred remains.

And when the fire dies and there is nothing left but a graveyard of cinder and ashy skies, the ones who survive will have to live amongst the rubble of what was once their lives.

[nodefinition-found]

- When Angel's Fall -

The path of a honest life is a very narrow one; practicing good is not as easy as committing sin and the two have been at war since the fall. But in an evil world filled with shadow and corruption, there must be good - otherwise, there is no salvation. Without salvation there is no justice, and without justice there is no hope. But you see, evil cannot exist without good for evil is merely a lack of; evil is the failure to measure up to a standard of good but good can stand alone. Perhaps the existence of evil is proof in itself that there is good and that in the end, it will rise above the chaos victorious.

•

Angel lore for a project I'm working on ;)