🩸Blood and Tears💧
CW: Blood
I know this type of art isn't for everyone, so I was unsure if I even wanted to post it. But, this artwork carries a lot of importance to me, and I spent a lot of time trying to find the best way to convey certain emotions I felt back in February especially.
Anyways, trans rights are human rights
yall ever experience a terror of like. using social media incorrectly? i’ll get terrified that im not using messaging or ask boxes correctly. or i’m posting things incorrectly. which doesn’t make a lot of sense but it sure does still happen lol. i’m just shouting this out into the world so i can stop feeing so silly for being a little intimidated
And for my next trick I'll explain why Leon Kennedy is so much more interesting as a bisexual than a straight guy until Capcom hires a hit on me to silence the truth
Hmmmm hm. Okay. Worldbuilding/story idea.
One million years after humanity disappears, octopi and ravens have independently developed sapience. And one day an octopus child and an elder raven meet at the edge of the ocean.
Where is your mother and father? asks the raven. I have no mother or father, says the octopus, blushing pale. All octopi are children. Once we’re grown, we will mate and we will die. It is the first and the last thing our mothers tell us.
But that’s horrible, says the raven. It’s not all bad, says the octopus. We play, we hunt, we make games for ourselves in the deep. Yes, but who remembers your songs? the raven says. Who passes down your stories?
What is a story? the octopus asks.
And the raven thinks about this question. And finally it says: A story is how you remember things in the past. It is how you know where you come from, and what happened before you were born. A story can be a warning, or it can be advice, or it can be a silly joke told to make you feel good. Someone remembers the story and tells it to the next generation, who remember the story and tells it to the generation after them.
And the octopus thinks about this answer. And finally it says: Can you tell me a story?
And the raven tells the octopus a story. And it’s a good story. And the next day the octopus returns and asks for another. The next day it brings its octopus friends, and the raven brings its raven friends, and many stories are shared on the edge of the ocean.
Months later, the octopus returns to the raven. I am grown, it says. I am returning to the sea to find a mate and lay my brood. I will not be coming back. I’m sorry.
I will miss your company, says the raven.
I have one thing to ask you, says the octopus. In time my children will come to the edge of the ocean. I would like you to tell them a story I have made. And when they have stories of their own, I would like your children to remember them and pass them down to my children’s children.
Of course, says the raven. What is your story about?
And the octopus thinks, and says: It is about an octopus child and an elder raven who meet at the edge of the ocean.
And this story has been passed down to this day.
she touches me and we are shocked to find my intimate areas thoroughly rotten
soft and jelly-like
my sex sloughs off of my body and hits the floor, slimy liquid landing heavily and melting into the carpet
she rests her hands on my breasts and they rupture, deflating as putrefied fluid dribbles down my body
she attempts to make love to the cavernous void left between my thighs and i feel nothing but insertion and movement
she ends up working herself to completion while i sit on my knees in bed beside her, watching her function so well
i find myself wishing to be like her, ramrod straight and pulsing with blood
the punchline arrives a couple years later, and i’m curled up on the floor of the bathtub, steaming hot water pelting down from the shower head onto my shivering frame
all that and i still don’t know what it’s likeÂ
sword in sheath did not make the blade mine
i finger hopelessly at a harp with no strings, desperate to pluck out a single note from the empty space
it offers me nothing but thick blood and a deep fear of dark nights and solo travel
thanks, i guess
low-poly, ps1-ish Batter
Reminder:
call me sunny! he/they, transmasc enby :-)22yo aspiring artist and poetbad at keeping an online presence bc of the wretched adhd addled brain my skull houses
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