thegreatermassofdeath - Tumblr blog

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Well, Duane's light goes out, buried under a pile of eels, and I cry with Sette. Want your family?! Have it. ... It - what? I could see people assuming Sette would cut something out of him with his claws. Instead, seems he gets something he didn't know about a reason of his griefs. I like your mercy, lady Florida Lioness.

Duane caught on her claws like a heavy coverlet, pulling her forward with him and nearly off the soft, slimy eel-covered bed that had formed beneath their feet to witness the execution. Sette didn't understand how he could be so heavy; so tendinous and gelatinous in her hands. Wasn't he a ghost? She flexed her fingers. A frisson of horror thickened her tail as he slid with a slurp off her pinioning grasp, and she was free to catch herself.

He fell away from her, a shed thing. A dead thing. Then a wet plop in the blackness below. She convulsed forward as if to jump after him, catch him, but stopped instead and stared off the edge.

There he lay in the bruise-red mire, face tilted to the void of the evil khert sky. Though he loved a good sky, none had come to tell him good-bye. Instead in a drunk frenzy the eels danced around him, blocked his vision, threaded their bodies into his hood, parted the shirt from his waist to curl under the idea of his clothing, lie flush with his dead clay chest.

Sette couldn't look away. She waited for him to sit up, to try and keep running, to yell at her, anything! The eels snapped at his face. Get away from him! she wanted to scream, but her throat was all stopped up with snot and crying. They didn't get away from him. He belonged to them now, forever. She watched his golden eyes bloom an ugly bronze, then tarnish to black. She watched him sink unblinking beneath the blood swarm, leaving behind only a single word - a final prayer, bobbing like a cork - to mark the site where Duane Adelier fell into Hell.

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Daniel Richter (German, b. 1962), Das Auge War Kaputt [The Eye Was Broken], 2011. Oil on canvas, 100 x 270.2 cm.

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WARNING, disturbing imagery. This page makes even the author sad.

On this week's page of Bicycle Boy, Isaac learns something important.

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Been awhile hasn't it

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From Playgirl magazine/January 2000

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"Do not destroy the landscape!" (Soviet Union, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, 1980s)

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Earthday is fight day

If your “green” project relies on the same practices of land theft, resource extraction, and labor abuse that brought us to this point - then the grifters supporting it are just another variety of climate change deniers. Squat the trees while we still got trees. Defend what you love.

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This is kingdom hearts 2 right

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On this week's page of Bicycle Boy, a fated elbow rub, perhaps?

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André Kertész • West 134th Street, New York, 1944

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Webtoon panel of cold sweat

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Easton and Ezra, where it all began.

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by mjurbexphotography

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No going back now. Went back to the green hell of the Belarus/Poland border to support my crew tryna keep refugees alive on their journey w medical needs, food, clothing, phone access, cigarettes, asylum papers, whatever. To avoid detection we navigate in total darkness but sometimes at night we'll risk a red light like a campfire that gives no heat. I'll try to get stories when/how I can around the glow while the medics tend to razor wire injuries or dog bites or whatever wounds these rival states have inflicted. Borders are death, I don't trust myself with a proper description but they are bad. fuck them and fuck the cowards maintaining them.