Jashtober Day 4: Light

Update, he has officially fallen into the Chonny hole. He's listened to cccc up to haiku and we've been taking about the lore. And he is currently looking at the lyrics in the "Ship of theseus" album to figure out the story. Someone in my friend group actually cares about Chonny and it makes me so happy.

I got one of my friends to match with me in Discord. Him as mind and me as heart, and I've never been happier

This album is the main reason I've started writing about vampires and mad scientists again and I couldn't be happier

Guess who's back here's a drawing I have mixed opinions about. Drew a pretty face and half asked the rest okay byeeee :33

I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

Jashtober day 10: Apathy (TW: intense at points)

How dare he. After all I’ve done for this vessel. He calls me a madman and dares to shoot at me in the same breath. I should kill him. I should strangle him on the spot. I can only wish I had nerves in these mechanical arms, so I could feel the warmth leave his neck… No, no. I must calm down. My absolution has no room for such emotions. If I kill him I have no idea what could happen. It could be killing us all for all I know. Even if we didn’t die on the spot, soul would never forgive me. Harmonia would never be impossible. If only heart had such foresight. Doesn’t matter. He missed completely. Not even close. Perhaps that fit of rage where I dislocated his eyes, wasn’t all bad. Luckily, I’ve had the perfect plan to quell this entropy, dissonance, and violence. Utter, holy, and just. Perfect apathy. My plan just needed a place to put heart and it looks like he dug a perfect little prison. A hole made for me. The irony is delicious. After that murder attempt, soul isn’t very happy with heart. It’s the perfect situation for me to make my move. I already see the throne and how wonderfully built for me it is. I hope he rots in that hole. I hope he feels the hate we all feel for him. He has kept us from perfection. A soul so complete and absolute. It only makes sense for a being made to make perfect, logical decisions to rule. I will stop this stalling, that demon has caused. He thinks of me as Hyde? Fine, I’ll give him hell. I’ll take control away and become the one in power. He has taken everything from me. My voice, my hands, the kingdom which is rightfully mine, and he still feels that is not enough and tries to take my life. I won’t take his voice, I know it’ll hurt him much more to know that no one is listening to his ridiculous songs. I’ll make him wish he was dead. I’ll make him wish he had turned that gun on himself. I’ll make him wish for the same apathy afforded to me and soul. 

Tom Cardy was my favorite artist before I knew about Chonny, so finding out this exists fires up my neurons in a way I can not describe

cruel world

happy 1 year anniversary to ain't no rest for the wicked!

as a bonus here's a comic that I was too lazy to finish (smokin' joe design in the first panel taken specifically from this amazing official art by the wonderful galoo!)

(I'm sure you could guess what the og second page was gonna be lmao)

Thinking about doing Jashtober but as writing prompts instead of drawing ones. Thoughts?

Are you ever at a restaurant and accidentally make reference (it was not an accident)

Jashtober day 7: Moss

 I look upon this world and I see beauty. It is finite and it is easily defiled, but it is beautiful. A set of random events caused one single-celled organism to evolve and split into a system of complex webs and ecosystems. Each animal, plant, and bacteria rely on each other to prevent their lives from falling into entropy. I was formed from the cosmos. Perhaps from a dying star or a collapsing blackhole. Maybe even the big bang. Whatever it was has long ago left my memory. I’ve seen every dwarf planet and neutron star, but this– this is amazing. I learn of the humans’ fascination with space and find myself confused. They talk about space's vastness compared to the earth’s tiny nature in the grand scheme. I reply: the desert is large and the oasis small, but that doesn’t make the oasis any less brilliant. The simple and elegant greens and blues that twist and entwine. The water and greenery bring life to everything around it and in return the animals bring their own life to sustain the greenery . Much more interesting than the grains of sand we call the universe. As strange as the humans’ ideas may be, I can not help but find peace and familiarity within the little creatures. They’re like microcosms of myself. Loving and hateful. Hopeful and nihilistic. Elated and bored. A being of gorgeous inspiration and disgusting shame. They see the same love in nature as I do. Well, some of them do. They might even be better than myself. They've created things I wish I could claim to be of my hands. Noises into music, shapes into art, and symbols into writing. I’ve collected as much of it into myself as I can and it’s wonderful. To be human is to be everything that is the oasis, right on the cusp of finding the mysteries in the desert. I suppose I would be those mysteries. I hope they never find me or any other of those mysteries. I am not grand, not as grand as the moss that grows on the trees. Not as grand as the fungi sprouting from the dew. Not as grand as flowers that sprout despite a prison of concrete. Not as grand as mammals that manage in the water. Not as grand horrors that creak in the darkness. Not as grand as the animals that once ruled, forever entrapped in rock. Not as grand as burrows that keep warm during the cold months. Not as grand as the web perfectly crafted by a spider. Not as grand as each painting, ballad, and sonnet I intake. Not as grand as this oasis. Perhaps I shall learn from the humans and start a journal. First entry: legend of the moss.

Trans visibility day you know what that means

+10 bragging rights

-15 TRANSparency

*laughs to self*

Jashtober day 2

The stars speak to me. When I look at them I hear my name. A name that no one knows. My real name. My name was different when I was a little girl. People didn’t even call me a little girl, they called me a little boy. At first I thought they must have been confused, but as I grew, being called by that name seemed to hurt. Every Time I was called handsome I would want to rip out my hair and scream at the tops of my lungs. Why? That was the correct term for me, wasn’t it? When the world seemed to make no sense I would lay on the grass and look at the stars. They always seemed so composed. As if when everything else around me fell into disarray and entropy, they would stay the same. Like an anchor for a boat. As I understood my reality more, the stars were always my safe haven. I could look at them and it’s as if I was sent to a new safer place as I stared. I began to learn why I hated to hate my name. Why I hated being called a boy, because I wasn’t one. Despite their insistence, the world was wrong about me. The realization was exhilarating but horrifying. I knew who I was, but at what cost. The world is seldom kind to those who don’t fit into its preconceptions. I could feel my heartbeat. My breaths clawed out of my chest. Everywhere I looked like it wanted to hurt me. Like an animal ready to pounce. At that moment I looked at the sky and saw the stars. I could hear a word calling down from them. “Astral”, I thought it was a beautiful word. But it wasn’t a word, it was a name. My name. The stars aren’t always out. They are hidden by the oppressive light of the sun. So, whenever I need the support, but they are nowhere to be seen I think of my name. This gift they have afforded me.