Art Dump :) (small Trypophobia Warning)

ꪖꪶꪑꪮᦓꪻ 📻🌹🥀

᥅ꪖᦔ꠸ꪮ᥅ꪮᦓꫀ

(fluff/angst)

It felt like a sunny spring day on earth.

The birds were chirping, and the sky was almost blue. It was hot, but the cool breeze made it feel just right.

The grass was almost green. Butterflies fluttered around. The two lay on a picnic blanket, on an almost green grassy hill.

Alastor was half asleep. The only kind of sleep he had been in for the past 6 months. Rosie was right next to him, smiling, looking up at the almost green trees.

It was an almost perfect day.

Rosie turns to Alastor. “Al.” She whispers.

“Hmmm?” He replies.

“How does your chest wound feel?” Her hushed, almost motherly tone can be heard.

“Numb.” He replies, groggily.

His exorcist wound. The one he got from foolishly charging at Adam, only to be beaten to near death. He’s been fairly anxious, tired, and sleep deprived since then. It was stinging, but now it’s not. Likely a good thing.

Well, Rosie considers it a good thing. It’s really freaking Alastor out.

Rosie smiles. “At least it’s not stinging.”

The world sounds earthly and peaceful when Alastor’s eyes are closed, but the moment he opens them, he’s met with different shades of red, everywhere he looks, unable to catch a break from the mean, taunting color. Disappointment floods his body more than blood ever could, as he looks up at what is almost home.

“I’m just hoping it’s not poisonous, or has some kind of mind eating parasite in it..” Anxiety circles Alastor. What he just said, didn’t sound like an Alastor thing at all.

Rosie frowns. “You’re being paranoid again.”

“I know.” Alastor responds in a tired tone. So much energy has been lost since the fight. Dizziness meets Alastor, so he shuts his eyes, to pretend that his almost perfect day, is a completely perfect day.

His dear “friend” holds his hand, massaging his knuckles.

A new feeling creeps in, but only attacks his heart. Tingly and feeling happy, he can’t put his finger on what this feeling is.

The two hear an explosive go off in the distance. Not even a hint of surprise passes by.

“It would be an almost perfect day… if we weren’t.. well.. here.” Rosie sighs.

Alastor nods. “Mhm..”

Rosie leans her head on his shoulder, and he can’t help but blush. A tired feeling passes by, and he closes his eyes once again.

“I’m so happy for Sir Pentious. So happy for Charlie and her hotel project, so happy for the future patients who could come a little closer to earths beauty by finally meeting Heaven.”

Alastor listens to Rosie’s talking as much as he can. He leans his head into hers.

He really likes the way she sounds. He could almost listen forever.

He listens to the chirping birds and the whistling wind, and the bugs buzzing. “It truly is an almost perfect day, isn’t it?” He finally speaks up.

“Yeah… yeah it is. It really is an almost perfect day.” Rosie replies chuckling.

Alastor feels his whole existence float away from him, as his mind starts to go white and blank. He can’t even feel sad, but instead feels satisfied. At least it ended in a useful way, as he 𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 survived a poisonous angelic attack.

Rosie continues to talk on.

“I wish every day could be just like this one. Just you, and me, and an almost perfect day. Right Alastor?”

His grip on her hand loosens, as she’s now the only one contributing to their hand holding.

No response could be heard from Alastor.

Maybe he just didn’t hear her.

“…Right… Alastor…?

A panic starts to flood her chest, but she still calmly calls to him.

…

“…Alastor?”

real shit

One thing I find hilarious is that people forget that Jayce had proof of magic. That man experienced a miracle and spent his life seeking out how to recreate it. How to bring magic to the people. It was all based in proof, experience.

Viktor was the one working based on belief, in himself, and in Jayce. Viktor came at Hextech simply on faith.

And yet, when people write fic, Viktor is basically the one who lacks whimsy. Who lacks wonder. Who works entirely on empirical evidence. Like only Jayce is allowed to be awed or curious about the unknown.

Who....who are you talking about right now?

My good people, Viktor is reserved but whimsical af. That man saw a giant salamander in a cave as a child and made it his bestie. That man gets asked if something is safe and cringes or shrugs with an "Of course not." That man heard "magic" and went "fuck yeah lets go".

Viktor isn't cold, emotionally, or to the wonder in the world. So, stop it. Give him back his whimsy.

random things I wanna eat that aren’t edible

-legos(they look crunchy)

-gym shoes with air pockets(I like to think they are filled with jelly)

-buildings(I feel like they’d be nice and crunchy like Kit Kats)

-my crush 😻 (this one is a joke)

-bleach(I always wanna know what it taste like)

-water balloons (I feel like the texture would be nice, where ya chew on it and then it pops and the water spills out)

-makeup(the texture looks so appealing)

-transparent dice(I feel like they’d taste like lollipops)

-potions from cartoons (they look like they’d taste like juice)

-remote (it looks like chocolate sometimes)

what about y’all what’s something you wanna eat that isn’t edible

Omg my blanket was cooking near the vent and I just threw it over my cold ass legs agjfneoosle it’s so nice

LESBIANS ‼️‼️‼️‼️

RAHHHH

my lovely ocs, pivver (the masked one) and Temperence (the cyclops). They’re lesbians 🤘😎

AAA

DATING WOMEN LOOKS FUN

I WANT TO DATE FEMALE

𝒜 𝒱𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝑀𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎

a fic where vox has been reincarnated into an imp

“Oookay, so, the guy we need to kill ding dong ditched our client in middle school, and he wants revenge. How should we go about this?” Blitzø dances around the IMP office, enthusiastic about stealing Moxxie and Millie’s new money to buy a horse with.

Moxxie clears his throat. “We could sneak in through the window, and kill him while he sleeps- OR we could take him out to dinner, put laxatives in his food, and then when he needs to shit, we follow him to the bathroom-“

Blitzø rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright Moxxie, we don’t need your overly complex plans today! Doing this in your smart, sophisticated way isn’t gonna get my dick all the way up!”

“I SAY, WE KIDNAP HIM AND MAKE HIM WATCH ME PLAY MARIO KART FOR 10 HOURS WHILE YOU GUYS BEAT HIM TO DEATH!” Millie canon balls into the conversation.

Moxxie and Blitzø look at Mille with pure concern.

Moxxie eventually speaks up.

“Honey… that’s.. no.”

Millie sighs. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry! I’m just excited!”

“Hey guys, am I allowed to come today, since the newbie probably isn’t coming?” Loona doesn’t even bother to look up at the rest of the gang. Doing who knows what on her phone.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry, but I’d were sticking to Moxxie’s barely disguised laxative fetish plan, that likely won’t smell great with your EEXXXXCELLANT NOSEEE! You have the best nose, by the way.” Blitzø exclaims, replying to Loona’s request.

Millie looks at the new guy, before looking to Looka. “Hey Loona, maybe you should as the newbie if he wants to come, before- assuming he doesn’t…”

Loona rolls her eyes and slams her phone on the table, the same one her legs are crossed over.

“Hey new guy, are you tagging along?” She asks him quickly.

An imp sits at the left end of the table, looking down at the table. He wears a cyan box over his head, and a black turtleneck. He fidgets with a lighter.

“God Loona, would it kill you to make eye contact with your coworkers every once and awhile?” The new guy asks, obviously annoyed by everything and everyone.

“Dude, just answer the question.” Loona is nearly at her limit with this new guy.

Blitzø calls him Cii. A unique spelling of “sigh”, even know it’s just the Spanish term for “yes” with an extra “I” and wow uniquely spelled names are ugly. The rant you are currently reading right now is Cii’s thoughts. Poor Cii. He has pretty severe amnesia. Knows almost nothing about himself.

“Fine. No, I’m not going on one of your stupid missions.”

“YES!” Loona exclaims.

“Alright bitches! Let’s go kick some ass!” Blitzø has a leadership in his voice.

“YEAHH!” The team replies.

Everyone but Cii. He doesn’t even bother to get up from his chair and go to Loona’s desk. After a solid 15 minutes, he finally stands up. Some material on the desk builds static up in his sleeve, and gives him a faint shock. A surprising one, yet faint.

That’s all it took for a vague memory to come back to him. {*^*} a memory.

Vox chases Valentino through a McMammons play place.

“GET THE FUCK- GET BACK HERE!” Vox shouts at Val.

“NO!” Val says with a big fat smirk on his face.

Vox falls off of the setup, hitting the ground with a thud, hurting his back.

“AAAH, GOD DAMMIT.” Vox turns on his side so that he doesn’t have to keep pressure on his back.

He can see a tall moth man standing above him.

“Now, now, Voxxy~” Val picks Vox up bridal style, and starts carting him out of the McMammons.

Vox crosses his arms in anger, but can’t help but feel fluttery inside. “I am going to fuck you senseless when we get home.” Vox accidentally faintly shocks himself on Val’s fur after sliding around in plastic McMammons slides all day.

Val chuckles. Not saying a thing.

{~_~}

Cii walks through the streets of hell, hands in his pockets. He passes a park bench. A tall, anthro moth sits on it. Cii only really stops when he hears a harmonica melody. The melody is familiar. It’s comforting. The moth man stops when he feels eyes on him.

“Do you want a job?” The moth man asks,

Cii crosses his arms in discomfort. “No, I’m just watching. What’s up with the sad vibe?”

“I lost somebody very important to me a week ago, I miss him dearly.” The moth man replies. “Where are you from, cutie?”

“Who the hell knows?

what if instead of creepypasta it was called eepypasta and instead of killing people they just napped a lot

surrounding yourself with too many suicidal people (and what it does)

hello.

my name is moll. I need to talk to you. And before I do, I need to put a trigger warning on this post. I will be discussing mental health and suicidal topics. If these trigger you, do not continue reading ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

most people have that one friend who isn’t doing so well. Most people have a friend that is not doing so well and obviously needs comfort and reassurance from friends. That is okay. Some people have friends with serious issues or mental disabilities, causing them to not act like the social norm for people. That is okay.

it becomes a problem when you’re in fear. You’re in fear that you could wake up tomorrow and they aren’t here anymore. It becomes a problem when you have to always make sure that they don’t go off the deep end on you. It scares you, right? And I’m not saying you should not be friends with people when they become suicidal, I’m saying that there’s a problem when it feels like your job to make sure they don’t do anything stupid. When it feels like it’s your responsibility to make sure they’re alive. When you feel like you have to be friends with them BECAUSE they’re suicidal. You can be there for them when they are suicidal without leaving them, but there’s a problem when their problems start turning into yours. You’re scared of them. You’re scared because they refuse to get help. You’re scared of them dying. Your friendship, is fueled by fear.

It’s a huge problem when you surround yourself with an entire group of people like this. Being in an entire groupchat or friend group with people like this is harmful to not only their mental health, but yours too. People always talking about how they want to go off the deep end, talking about the drugs they’re doing, showing pictures of their self harm to you. An entire group of people, and then other suicidal people you may know outside that friend group or group chat. ⚠️Not all suicidal people are like this, I’m talking about when they are VERY suicidal⚠️

I’m going to speak from experience now. I have been surrounded with suicidal people for god who knows how long. Having a ton of friendships with people who are about to go off the deep end, and having to constantly make sure they don’t, scars you bad. I have a feeling it’s going to stick with me forever. At first I thought, “I could help them.”, but now I can’t get a good nights sleep praying that they are alive and breathing tomorrow. I’ve been vented to, I’ve seen peoples self harm, I’ve let people over share about their lives to me. So many people, all the venting and the sadness. They say the same things every day, you don’t know how to respond anymore, and they rarely respond to your vents. I thought it was okay. But what has it done to me?

It manipulated me into thinking my problems don’t matter, because all of my friends have it worse. They can tell me anything, even if it affects me badly. I’ve never been able to fully talk to them about it, hopefully one day I can. But for now I’ve dug myself into a huge hole, it’s so hard to get out. I am on so many waiting lists for therapy, nobody is available. I wish I could’ve told my younger self to not do what I did. There’s a huge messy ball of depression and anxiety hanging over me, with the right help I can cut it open, but the right help is just out of reach for now.

You don’t have to be like me. You don’t have to pray to god you get help, you don’t have to go sleepless nights hoping your friends are here tomorrow. You don’t have to be like me. Surround yourself with people who have a good influence on you.

its okay to be suicidal, its okay to have suicidal friends. It’s okay to vent and it’s okay to be vented to, but it becomes a problem when your whole social life is fueled by fear. Be there for your friends when they’re not doing okay, but let them know when you’re not doing okay either. Make sure they care.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading.