#death ment in tags ->

[tamayokny]

thoroughly convinced that 2023 is a terrible year and that it needs to end

[antarctite]

in love with the idea of me, mount my head on a wall / sinful desires festering, under my pelt they crawl / so skin me, flesh me, tan my hide and render me preserved / my plastic eyes brimming with shame / remove the viscera containing deviance unheard / to be a girl is to be game

character by @weevildoing

other ver:

[lionsarewhite]

he caved and let her have it and shes besties with it now dw

[hearthoof]

A "quick, clean, painless death" is not possible for a slaughtered animal. The death is messy, extremely painful, and it drags on. If you've seen any slaughterhouse footage, then you'd know this.

But it isn't just the traumatizing death that concerns me. It's the loss of life. The stealing of another being's existence.

As a hypothetical, say I went to someone and shot them in the head while they were asleep. Some would say their death was "quick and painless".. maybe not the clean part. But the way the person died isn't the only thing people would be upset about. It is the loss of their life. Even if I said I was using that person's body for products or food for myself, it wouldn't be okay. We all understand that taking a life is horrible because it deprived that person from their right to live.

I apply this same idea to animals. It's not hard to understand

[tsururoach]

(Strawpages 10-38 bc i hit image cap)

Apple Saga

[hollowsart]

I love the general thought and idea that monsters don't bleed that a lot of UTDR fans have. even tho there's been a few in-canon shows and mentions that say otherwise.

there's so much of a heavy focus on the turning to dust that these instances are often ignored or misinterpreted into wild theories that in the end are just purely for fun and fanmade.

I like to think that it's both. They consist of magic and blood. however, it's only upon death do their bodies wither and turn to dust. As long as the blow isn't instantly lethal, they can bleed, such is the case with Sans.

Such as we are carbon-based.. the monsters are perhaps, magic-based in the same sense. which can explain why they, too, bleed when injured. they die and the magic is gone, so their bodies are unable to be maintained, their forms fall away, and so they turn to dust.

It just seems to be as simple as that, to me. the explanation of blood in monsters "despite" them being made of magic. we have blood and yet we are carbon based..?

[dreamsofalife]

"Don't feel bad! Rats are resourceful, clever, social animals who often love humans. They can even be trained to do tricks like dogs! While many suffer health issues and have shorter lifespans, they're industrious, clean, and community minded! Plus they rescue people in some cases!"

[fairy-selfships]

rewatched perfect blue and i just. yeah........

brainrot is one hell of a drug

please watch perfect blue btw

[dni transcript on pinned!!]

[syn4k]

"what happens to you after you die" well you get remembered, obviously

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Hunting Season

The following is a set of recovered journal entries found near the forest outside Whitepine, Ontario. The writer of said entries is yet to be found by authorities.

Notes: A little writing thing I was inspired to make, being a little. I guess teaser? For Whispers of Willows that isn't a part of the main storyline!

August 23rd, 1987

Today, the hunt begins. I have heard of an elk being spotted outside the woods right outside the city; one described as the biggest people near here have seen, with antlers that would be a fantastic centerpiece for any room. I plan to head out tonight and bypass the fence. Hopefully no one will see.

I have to get to that elk before anyone else takes it from me.

August 24th, 1987

I set up camp somewhere near the outskirts of the woods. I’m too tired to go hunting today. I will rest until the morning, and start looking as soon as I wake up.

August 25th, 1987

I’ve only seen a couple squirrels since I came here. It's near barren in terms of animal life, but it’s bountiful in fauna. I shot one of the squirrels for dinner. It didn’t taste great.

Staying near the outskirts isn’t getting me anywhere. Tomorrow I'll pack up and move further into the woods. Maybe then I'll get an idea of where the elk might be.

August 27th, 1987

The trees are taller than I remember them being; Pines stretching up into the sky, their tops barely visible from the forest floor. I nearly tripped on their roots multiple times as well. It feels as though they’re watching me. Judging me for being here. 

I found a doe today. It ran off before I could get to it. 

September 1st, 1987

No sign of the elk. I’ve been feeding off snacks I packed and a deer I managed to shoot yesterday. I hear its calls when I'm trying to sleep so I figured writing this would get my mind off of things. If I don’t find the elk tomorrow, I'll head in deeper. I’m starting to get impatient, but a good hunter knows to wait. I just have to wait.

September 2nd, 1987

The birds stopped singing today.

September 3rd, 1987

I found a good camping spot near a stream. It’s relaxing, hearing the water rushing by. I’m starting to wish I packed more blankets, as it's getting colder, near freezing at night. My campfire is helping, but it only does so much. At least it gives light. The shadows from the trees are making it difficult to navigate without a light.

September, 1987

I woke up this morning to see it's still dark. The sun isn’t shining through the trees, and the trees themselves feel as though they go up forever. I’m out of food. I need to go out to hunt today. 

September, 1987

I found a deer today. I was happy at first, thinking my prayers had been answered, but I noticed it had five legs. Its eyes looked at me like a human would. It made a horrible scream when I shot it.

I still ate it. It tasted rotten, but I was too hungry to care. I’m sorry, little one.

September, 1987

I heard elk calls. It's nearby, I know it. Its calls feel as though it's begging me to go deeper into the woods. Beckoning me. I will find it. 

My sleeping bag isn’t enough to keep me warm. The campfire is the only source of warmth here now. I hope God is looking upon me with fortune.

1987

I hear its calls every time I drift off to sleep. My creaking bones object but I must move forward. I’m so close to it. I’m nearly out of bullets. I only need one. 

The wind sings to me. Trees watch in disdain. The animals have fled. 

1987

I don’t believe God is hearing me.

1987

I haven’t seen the sun in a month. Has it been that long? I can’t count the days anymore. It could have been years since I started this hunt, but I can’t tell. It all feels the same. My equipment doesn’t work anymore. My watch’s hands haven’t moved.

I need to get it. It will be mine. I will display its corpse in my home. I will show everyone my achievement. 

1987

These woods will be my grave. The trees will feast on my corpse when I'm gone, and the insects will take whatever is left of me. I am no better than the soil on which I stand. 

1 9 87

I found it. My prize. It stood on the h ill. I t star ed at me from its perc h. I h eard it c all out in v ai n whe n it di ed. It s eye s w eeren’t tho se of Elk. t hey were my own eyes s taring back at me.

I hea r a voice th at isnt m y own. God is with me. 

I re turn to the ear th.

I rejoice.

[ccaptain]

   ' Rumors are that, if you disrespect an animal that was of sustainance to you, you will be devoured by its bloodline. 

   Imagine this: you have been traveling for days, perhaps even months. Your supplies have dwindled considerably from the last time you restocked- you are rationing your water, having light snacks instead of meals to further ration what you have left. Your destination is still far, and when you sit down by the fire you made with sticks and leaves, you're not sure how much further you can go on.

   Suddendly, from a nearby bush, something hops out... your salvation.

   A fluffy, brown rabbit. '

   ' You are not a primitive person by any means, but your mouth waters. It's an easy prey. You imagine the cooked meat roasting in its own grease... perhaps you have some spices in your traveling bag, some salt. You think the poor animal will make a fine meal, and so you strike it down and do as you thought, the meat juicy and tender. You feel your energies being restored bite after bite. You pick the bones clean. Somehow, this is one of the best meals you ever had.

   You sit with your belly full of delicious rabbit meat, watching the bones, discarded skin and organs in the dying embers of your bonfire. You think leftovers of those, and you make the mistake of not honoring the animal that had to die to give you some energy to walk further distance.

   With the parts of the animal that you have discarded, you should gather. With your bare hands, you should dig a hole deep enough by the roots of a nearby tree and rest what you call leftovers in it, to allow a tree to grow, from the substances that come from the decay of a life. Do it with your hands, devoid of gloves- let the grease and blood stain them to pay an higher price, show that you are not afraid of this form of respect. Put the organs and the bones you picked clean in the fresh grave you just dug, and cover it up. By doing this, you have given the appropriate respect to an animal who perished to sate your hunger- and you return what's left of it to the soil, feeding the roots of an hungry tree. You repay your debt to nature in kind, and you are free to go.

   But you don't know, ignorant one that followed hunger. In your sated state, in your arrogance, you don't show the required respect. You leave what you arrogantly call leftovers in the dead embers of your fire, and arrogantly go on with your adventure.

   But I can almost hear you think, hearing my story: ha! A dozen cute, fluffy bunnies to avenge their dead, fluffy kin? What will they do! Smother me to death?, and you'd be ignorant thrice not to think about the blood red eyes, the strong, long back and forelegs, about sharp teeth able to tear fingers out.

   Staring at you in the darkness. Surrounding you like a pack of wolves, the hares have come for vengeance.

   For your disrespect, you will become nothing more than the echo of agonizing screams some other traveler will hear at night. An echo passing in the wind, your bones unburied, everything about you consumed. Nothing left to waste.

   Not even leftovers will remain of you. And all because you thought of yourself too highly, too arrogant to bury the bones of your meal. '

[utdr-stimming]

Asriel Dreemurr (God of Hyperdeath) stim board!!!

x x x

x :) x

x x x

[bengustown]

hunter. come here to memy son. i have been defeated. we have been defeated. my sweet child. swallow this pill with daddeh. it’ll be over soon. i love you. i love this nation. god bless these great united states. good buh buh

[polyamraven]

i had a dream my dad died last night and it kind of fucked me up badly. like I know why I had the dream bc in the dream he literally died bc he went back to work and pushed himself too hard and he's going back to work soon bc he got denied disability and doesn't feel like he can fight it and I'm scared for him. but like come on brain. i don't think that's helping

[uppertwo]

hc inquiry: what is douma's opinions on second chances? how far can someone fall until they can atone for their mistakes?

unprompted. / always accepting!

dōma firmly believes in second chances, provided there are two conditions: one is that the aggressor is truly sorry for what they have done, and two is that they actively commit to changing the situation so their mistakes do not repeat. so long as these things are applicable, nothing is too far for him to forgive. 

even in extreme circumstances, dōma is a forgiving person by nature — it is how he always has been. he will search for reasons to look the other way, but there are times where he feels he must act — such as a cult member being in physical danger, to state an obvious one. 

he will only kill (as opposed to eat, which he equates with sending them to paradise i.e. making them a part of his own being), when they do not show any signs of the above and haven’t for a very long time. the only exception to this rule is if the innocent person is at risk of being killed, so like with kotoha’s abuser/inosuke’s father, he had already decided that if he allowed him to live, kotoha and inosuke would die, and so, he was forced into action.

dōma exists as a pillar of his cult to ensure it is a safe environment for those experiencing misery of any sort. thus, he has to make very difficult decisions. to then save the lives and the peace of the temple, he has to spread news of violent people being “spirited away,” enforcing the idea that if you are a part of the eternal paradise cult, you are under his specific kind of spiritual protection.

and as a side note, to him, being killed is the most peaceful way for the violent person to go — he does not torture them, and usually he places their bodies where they will become a part of nature, in hopes to atone for their actions by helping the plants and animals in that area survive.

so to answer your question in tldr fashion, there is not anything that cannot be atoned for in some way in dōma's eyes. however, if you pose a serious, serious risk to others in the cult, dōma always feels he must act to ensure his cult is not placed in a dangerous situation.

[solidwater05]

Which epprbcu character would you take in a fight if you had to?

I think I'd die no matter who I pick. I know I would NOT want to fight V! or Weather or Artemis. That's for sure

Uhh since you said 'if I had to' I'm assuming that the character would be the one who starts the fight and most characters are utterly terrifying when they're angry. or all the time. A lot of them are scary all the time

I was gonna say Fan because she's currently sick but Ken would kill me. probably painfully

Shady can freeze me

... Two? Wait no One would murder me

So I guess the answer is 'whoever kills me the fastest'