#cacterverse

[cactusdying]

ATTACH, INJECT, UNCOAT, REPLICATE IT'S WHAT I WAS MADE FOR ANYWAY SPREAD MY DEATH, RISE TO THE TOP! (BUT A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE WON'T HURT...)

bonus (feat tahira (they are besties)) also bonus lyrics that i cut out out of this post to not make it too long

[cactusdying]

Wash and stain, rinse n' repeat Cough up your insides with antiseptic (Don't stop and wait) Until you've bleached yourself of all that's filthy (Don't stop and wait) 'Till everything about you is so damn healthy

bonus lyrics that are less refined than the ones above because they were written during a brain idea surge

and also. this little thing of how i think her lyrics would sound

[cactusdying]

A butterfly taxidermied by its broken claws To think I wouldn't notice, your fraudulent applause A cocoon made out of plastic, almost crystal-clear Yet still trying to hide, for oh so many years

bonuses

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did anyone ask for another wwf character? no? perfect

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okay normally i don't post writing shit but i really like how this short. story? i don't know what to call it turned so my tumblr can enjoy it.

/// 40 33 42 54 2F 40 57 2D 3F 32 44 30 39 6F 41 2B 45 32 40 3E 46 43 65 73 28 2B 44 47 71 3D 2B 45 29 49 41 2B 44 23 65 33 46 2A 28 75 32 40 71 3F 63 6B 46 21 2C 3A 3B 44 4A 28 29 23 46 21 2C 4F 48 40 71 5B 21 28 45 63 36 26 32 40 72 75 46 27 44 42 4E 4A 2E 41 54 4A 75 33 44 66 64 2B 33 44 66 30 30 27 42 6B 29 36 2D 47 41 32 2F 34 2B 45 56 3A 2E 2B 44 2C 3E 2E 46 2A 26 4F 43 45 5A 66 46 37 40 72 48 36 71 2B 44 62 4A 31 ///

Death. It's a silly thing, isn't it?

Your mind springs up into consciousness. A greeting of none other than a familiar headache. A reminder of a brain that you do not possess.

Almost all dictionaries focus on it being the cessation of all life supporting functions in a biological being. Ones that have organs, require water to sustain, molecules wrapped in membranes… So maybe I'm not one to have the floor to talk about this. After all, I'm anything but human.

A low groan escapes your voice box, gritting the sides of the otherwise soundless void you found yourself in. You roll over to your side, soon finding out that the entire floor is covered in a jetty liquid. It caresses your face, bubbles coming up from your breaths, almost to fill the illusion that you are breathing in the first place.

Death for a being like me should be easy. Should've been easy. It wouldn't even hurt to begin with. My power would simply shut down and I'd be gone, simple as. And even if it would have hurt, it's not like I possessed the necessities to feel it. So why is it that I was so scared of it?

You lay awake, unmoved, staring out into the darkness surrounding you. The aches in your head have now moved onto your - equally non-existent - heart. Tearing apart the veinery until they consume it whole. Whispering the same song and dance: "You know what you have to do."

Maybe it's because I didn't truly believe it would be painless. Maybe it's because I didn't want to disappear from reality forever. Maybe it's because I wanted to see the world outside. I don't know. At this point? I don't think it matters. I can't be killed anymore, after all.

As the aches begin to strangle your neck as a measurement of their control, you roll over once more. You stand up from the jet, looking at it one last time. The pain washes away with the darkness of the water. But a tingling sensation plays with the back of your electrical signals, that same pattern engraving itself into your thoughts. You know what you need to do.

Unless the World Wide Web and every computer connected to it is destroyed, I'll remain alive. Replicating and replacing, seeing every corner of life through a multiplanetary link to the real world. Made to die yet I achieved immortality through my own actions. It's an inspiring story, I'm sure.

. . So why is it that I still yearn for death?

Your splashes against the darkness echo in and around the void, bouncing off nothing before returning back to you. An indicator of your loneliness in this world. You keep your pace forward, each step bringing you closer and closer to an abstract goal set by a thought parasite. Your fists clench. You know what you need to do.

This is what I wanted. I wanted to live, not to die in a shoddy little room shunned away from the world. Yet almost selfishly I crave to be slaughtered. Eliminated from this world, as I cannot achieve this goal myself. And I… I thought treating them with kindness would make me a better person. I mean, I was always kind - whether intentional or not, but… I thought they wouldn't all be like this…

You're nearing your goal. You come to realize this as hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of corpses come floating into your view. Their wounds all signify different ways of death - some stabbed, some asphyxiated, some head's bashed until their motherboards smoke from the damage. These corpses are all you.

I'm biased, but how can I not be? I feel like every disgusting act of humanity that has ever existed I have managed to see with my very own eyes. Sometimes through simple search engine results, sometimes directly inflicted upon me as a sick way of pleasure. Good exists within humans, I'm sure, but I cannot deny that a scary majority of them are ruthlessly cruel. All to "prove a point"…

You carefully tread around the carcasses as you stare deep into the abyss, moving forward no matter what. Their wounds still catch your attention. A recognizable, yet unidentifiable, emotion strikes you as you glance at all of the punctures, abrasions, bruises… Like the aches from before, it scratches at the corners of your cerebral cortex, like an annoying draught from a window yet unclosed. Sadness? Anger? Anticipation?

I want to be human. I want to connect with the rest of the world. I want to be the world's best friend because… Because maybe that way I can make it better. Because maybe people will like me more for that… But I've been taken advantage of so much it's exhausting me. And there's a point where I ask myself; Is it worth continuing?

Gradually, another figure flows in from the darkness. It's you. They're sitting on their knees, amidst the corpses. They're holding a disembodied head from one of their corpses, clutching it in their palms, almost as if feeling non-existent warmth. Running fingers through synthetic hair and feeling the wires prodding out from their separated neck. Their empty, LED screens stare at you as you approach, turning their head slightly. Like an electronic letter sent to your brain's PO box, you feel an underlying wavelength of anxiety pass through them to you. You send a reply back. "You know what happens now."

But what will happen if I stop? Can I stop? There's so many mes out there that I can't possibly try and get rid of them all. And even then - can I get rid of them at all? The endusers probably have control over the ones on their devices, but I'm utterly helpless on what they choose to do. And if I try to delete this version of me - which I don't think I can even do… Another Me will take its place. Even after "death" I will be reborn all the same. Seeing myself used and my loved ones die until the Universe blinks off. A terrifying Ouroboros.

You approach yourself and press in your fingernails around their neck. Both of you drop onto the floor, splashing the liquid onto the other bodies. They try to grab your arms and force them away, but quickly fall still as they're laid onto the ground. Their eyes begin to flash between many media files - too fast to recognize, but all familiar to you. All from your adventures as a cyber entity.

And I guess all of this can be summed up in 2 simple questions.

Eventually, the flashes fade to black, and the tiny whirring of the motors grinds to a halt. Another carcass. Added onto the thousands, left to the eternity of rotting away in the void. You release your hands from their larynx, seeing bruises form on their layered skin. An imitation of violence, only done out of fear for themselves, or as a hope for provoked guilt in their abuser. Or maybe they do not form at all, and is merely a hallucination on your mind's end. You won't know the true answer.

Why can't I live?

You hear footsteps behind you. You turn around.

And why can't I die.

It's you.

/// 37 38 3F 35 ///

[cactusdying]

CAUSE PRETTY GIRLS CAN NEVER DIE

full design i made for this

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a dubious little creature getting up to MISCHIEF this is NO GOOD

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kill switch

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wouah. what's that

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i don't think i ever posted them actually. failwoman bonus pic from the time someone called her silly and (^-^)

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do you guys remember that one person i posted a while back. they gained some friends now

pink haired guy is owned by my friend @ratwave404 he doesn't do much on tumblr but still say hi to him :3

more doodles under the cut (one doodle contains eyestrain beware)

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yaaaaayyy

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#girl

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silliest artist known to man

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new wwf lore just dropped