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I've seen several sites mention this, it's real.

Do not make the MISTAKE of thinking you need to put your side forward. The Guardian is transphobic as fuck, and will twist your words. DO NOT ENGAGE.

By the way, this is in the aftermath of the Cass Report, and the goal will be to make Trans DIY something that needs to be regulated or stamped out. DO NOT ENGAGE.

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feel gutted

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idk what to call this one

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im normal<3

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Bad movie date nights are fun… unless it’s a movie 43 night

#i love your art style!!!

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Guys getting hurt dot com

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HOWDY

Do you want a nifty little doodle of your character/blorbo/anything

Well…. I can do just that for ya ;)

For only a crisp 5 dollars a lil goofster could be YOURS

Will do:

Self inserts

Some nsfw

Gore and violence

Will not do:

Anything racist

TERF shit (transphobia)

Barbie movie or anything Harry Potter related

Commmissions will be in black and white

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Jessica Bartram

#stuff those back in

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You wake up in a room

You wake up in a room.

It isn’t the first time that you have been here. The walls smell familiar – like the world Outside. Industrial and stale.

Fear creeps up your spine, making hair by hair stand on end.

The room is empty and white. There isn’t even the barest scrape of humanity lingering, not anymore. Perhaps never. The carpet is unwelcome against your feet, as though pulling you to stay.

And there is a door.

.

You are in a room.

This one is larger, emptier, more frightening. The ceiling is a million miles away, a galaxy above your head. A cavernous cave, with only the skins of teddy bears beneath you, leading a trail into the distance.

The dirt is cold and familiar beneath your hands. Red, metallic, like the world that you left behind.

In the distance, voices seek you out, and there is the tantalizing tang of addiction in the back of your throat.

A deeper, more guttural growling reverberates further in the tunnels, followed by a mechanical whir.

You begin to run.

.

You are in a room.

A gigantic, endless monstrosity. Filled with bustling voices, and faceless beings. Swathed in darkness and terror. They buzz around you, but you cannot understand what they say.

In this endless room, there is equally endless punishment. Again and again and again to the splatter of dripping blood.

As you walk through the room, the beings turn to stare at you, one by one by one.

You are not faceless.

The beings chase after you, their hands pulling at your clothing, driving rivets of blood down your skin.

You reach the stairs and you are falling.

Down, down, down.

While they whisper and skitter overhead.

.

You are in a room.

There is a deepening sense of unease. A clutch of dread in the bottom of your stomach, like a reflection that has come to life.

These halls are wrong – alien. They twist and curve, until you feel as though you have lost yourself.

And perhaps what is chasing you wears your own skin.

.

You are in a room. Down another staircase, your limbs bruised and bloody from the fall. Time has no meaning beneath this ceiling, which wears down and suffocates you, trapping you further inside this place.

Life has no meaning here.

A shadowy figure captures you in its net. Whispering, prying, pulling – unraveling your skin, layer by layer.

You scream, your voice echoing to the endless rooms beyond.

Your blood spills onto a floor that has already been stained, falling into the shadow of thousands upon thousands.

Even when you pull yourself from the carnage, the shadowy figure follows.

Only a heartbeat behind, tethered to the back of every thought.

.

You are in a room. Your hand trembles over the doorknob.

Everything is white. The halls are a labyrinthian mirror of the levels that you have already traversed.

You glance nervously over your shoulder, but there is no hint of the path ahead. There is no sense in any of this, you think.

The hall splits into two equally colorless passages. Each promising endless loneliness, in a world where even the sound has abandoned you.

You turn left without looking back.

.

You are in a room.

There is a monster who wants you. A figure more terrifying than the shadowy creature, the faceless beings, or even the beast that lurks behind your own skin.

You run, but you will never escape the terror until it has been torn from the white walls in a cacophony of blood.

.

You are in a room.

Dripping red with guilt.

But still you walk. Down the trodden paths, into wordless buildings of halls, of faceless walls and whispering nightmares.

Beyond the promise of Eden that begs you to stay. To remain here and give up, until the white walls have swallowed you, and you have melted into this world that holds you prisoner.

Tears well in the corner of your eyes as you turn your back.

.

You are in a room.

Even more alone than before.

Your shadow has left you behind, abandoning the senseless walls for another realm. You plead and beg with the loneliness, but you have grown too different, and it can never return.

Mold grows from the walls as you tread forward, as untouched as the nightmare that you forgot you were living.

Each breath dispenses spores into the air, and you know that they are inside you now. Festering and suffocating inside your lungs, until soon you won’t be able to breathe at all.

But you will be part of something again. And the other growths will welcome you.

.

You are in a room.

It has been difficult to drag yourself this far. Your body is weary, worn, tired. Devoured by blood and bruises and painful, agonizing thoughts.

The person that you were at the beginning of this journey has weakened and cannot go any further.

You find that you are trapped here. The walls pressing you into a small, dejected nightmare.

There is no further that you can go.

.

You are still in a room.

You wonder what the point was. Why you went on this journey, if there ever had been another ending in place.

If choice had ever been offered to you, or if every door had secretly led to the same outcome.

Nobody will ever know.

But you have no choice except to continue.

.

You emerge from a room. Your hands bloody, drenched in the blood of your past self who lies in pieces behind you.

Shredded like the world that you left behind. A world that doesn’t exist at all now, and perhaps never did.

The white walls welcome you like a gentle caress, swallowing your form into the mold. As your hand finds another door.

.

You are in a room.

There is nobody else left. You have lost your shadow, your yesterdays and your tomorrows, and you are naked to the world within.

Dripping with the self that you have murdered, sacrificed to this place for the chance to continue.

And you will continue, yes?

What you are now is not what you started out as.

You have clawed your way from the mouth of another you. Birthed from the entrails of a weaker self.

Your eyes are wild, erratic as they travel the walls around you, searching for the next escape.

For the ending that you have sacrificed everything to find.

Your hand touches the final door

And you wake up in a room.

.

This short story was based on the novel "Boxes"!

Please see the masterpost for trigger warnings and more information !

📦Masterpost, Link to purchase

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A bunch of design notes for my plague birds & their story :>

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"Now, now Dixie, your viewers will like you better if you smile."

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I want him.

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Mama we're all full of lies

Mama we're meant for the flies

And right now they're building a coffin your size

Mama we all go to hell

Character is from Boxes, my horror novel, info in pinned post!

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message from my youtube recommendations im delivering

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after-life (2022)

paper mache, other recycled materials, acrylic paint