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#Somber
lilemobaby · 3 months
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Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003)
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chickenlover-19 · 1 year
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Duality
And humanity lost (or smthing poetic). Also??? I can finish art pieces still??
Here’s my take on Eldritch Danny (as prompted by @paenling 💜)! I’m in love with the idea of Danny becoming more and more ghostly/eldritch overtime. It could be influenced by how much he uses his ghost side but personally I like the idea that his appearance becoming creepier and creepier is more of an eventuality that he can’t avoid (after the great microwaving). I have lots of thoughts on this, so expect more in the near future mwahaha
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zenniefox · 10 months
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look at mister sad stripes ova heeeee
commission for a fella on twitter!
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Jakub Schikaneder (1855-1924) "Sunset on the Vltava River"
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joklhops · 12 days
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a gentle melancholy song. hope you like it, tumblr dears. lyrics:
I knew all the things I wanted to do Came prepared to play And then I met you You might say i got lost that day oh i got lost, in a wonderful way
i'd seen skies of a pretty orange-pink hue that color had no name no name i knew until the day we met and then i knew that was the color the color of you
the color of you, and all hopeful souls oh, my dear what a mournful glow
like the tides your kind they come and go but always with that same pretty orange-pink glow.
oh my dear what a mournful soul
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sleepypeek · 5 days
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How strange is it to be anything at all?
I am very proud of this one :D I hope you like it too! ❤
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danila-golmanov · 6 months
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fragile
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sombersoulposts · 6 months
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🖤
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jessicamarbles · 4 months
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Isabel
“Your name is Isabel.” The woman’s voice was like a warm blanket dropped over a bird cage. You turned to look at her, barely noticing where you were now. High up upon a shelf in some strangers cottage, peering at a woman as large as a giant. Thick curls of golden hair framed Her pointed, kindly features, but your eyes rested on Her lips, full and almost smiling.
You found you could not look away.
“You have always been Isabel.” She continued “I found you on the beach. You are mine now.” Her words had weight to them. They made truth where none had been before.
“You had a bad dream. You dreamed you were something big and rough and angry. You spent your days with other big, rough, angry things. But that’s not what you are. Not what you ever were. You’re small and delicate and pretty. See?” With a gentle touch she turned your face to the looking glass and, to your astonishment, it was true. You were small and delicate and pretty. But something else. Something not quite right. You moved slowly, like you were racing your reflection. Your face was still, oh so still, and almost too pretty, like a painting. Before you could look closer she twisted your head back into position with a nimbleness that made you tingle in some place that you no longer had. You stared again at the shimmering ruby of her lips, vast and smiling.
“You were always small and delicate and pretty. The big, rough thing you dreamed was unhappy. But Isabel is happy. Isabel is happy when it is with me.”
And for the rest of the day, Isabel felt just how it had been told to. Quiet, serene, blissful. It had no thought of need nor want for purpose. No reason to exist beyond what it was: pretty and delicate and Hers. Dolls are made to be loved.
When dark fell, She gathered a candle and vanished to some other room. You ached to go with Her, but no surfeit of need could move your wooden limbs. Outside of Her gaze you were frozen, an object, as all dolls are when their Owners do not need them.
Alone in the dark, the nightmare stalked your mind.
Cracked light broke a black sky. Shouting. The *sky* shouted, bellowed, and the rough, angry things yelled too, though their voices sounded small against the night.
“Reef the sails! Now!”
But it was too late.
Burst wood. A scream that seemed to start inside your mouth. Choking. Kicking. Scrambling. Floating in the dark.
Then It came. A shimmering ribbon rippling toward you through the inky black. Huge, inhuman, but with a face not wholly unlike a man’s. Beautiful, but cold, and far too pale. And its eyes. Its eyes were pure black, two demon pearls against a mask of pristine white. They brought a fear with them that no storm ever could.
You could have leapt for joy when She returned, if you could have moved at all. She took a scoop of hot porridge in a wooden bowl, stoked the fire, tidied, washed her face and said some kind of blessing to the day. Then she fed the black tom cat, combed her hair, wrote out a day list and drank a cup of something warm and brown. Only then did she turn to you and say
“Isabel is happy. Isabel doesn’t think. Are you happy?”
You cast your mind back to yesterday, that pristine bliss, then looked away. The truth felt like a sin.
“What is your name?” She asked instead.
A memory stirred in you. Some doom faced man, all buttons and brass had asked you that. Was he a dream as well? He’d needed your name for the paper promise you made to him and to the sea.
He needed your name.
Your name.
You leapt to your feet and tried to yell. To tell the world who you’d been. There is power in knowing who you are.
But no breath came from your painted lips and instead you danced a mute tantrum at Her that, at least, brought a smile to those big, red lips.
“Dolls don’t need words.” She said “Not besides the ones we give them.”
For a while She watched you stamp and gesticulate, enjoying the show you made of your frustration. Then, as if finally bored, She said
“Your name is Isabel. Your name is Isabel and you are mine.”
The tempest died in its heart and Isabel sat daintily on the shelf, brimming with a cool blue calm. It spent the day watching Her work. Snipping herbs, inking parchment, adding a pinch of this or a spoon of that to the bubbling iron pot. It sat silent, frozen, but ecstatic just knowing She was near.
When night returned the dream fell on you like heartbreak.
The creature wrapped its long, wriggling tail around you. You tried to hit it – you’d been strong back then, if little else – but your blows tumbled forcelessly through the black depths. You clawed at its incandescence with your nails, clipped short, uniform code, but you found no purchase against the shimmer of its scales.
When it was coiled around every inch of you, it began to squeeze. You fought as much as you could. Not much at all. Something in you broke and your lungs freed that final gasp of air.
You stared into its perfectly black eyes as the monster swallowed your dying breath.
You fell on morning, waking, like a drowning man on driftwood. Once more She came, and you wanted to reach out to Her. Again she made her morning first, before paying you any regard.
When at last She turned her head toward you, you leapt to your feet and held out your arms, then dropped them, limp, embarrassed, not knowing after all.
“Today you learn to speak, little doll. You may have one word. All yours, to say or swallow.”
You nodded, though no question had been asked.
She leaned in and Her breath against your body was like a summer wind. Then she spoke into your mouth, a single word:
“Isabel”
You knew at once it was your own.
She stood and sipped something hot from her morning mug then said, offhandedly
“Isabel is happy. Isabel is mine. Isabel sleeps in my bed at night.”
For a long time, the witch said nothing, seeming to ignore the longing on your face.
“What is your name?” she asked, looking down at you.
For the first time, you noticed Her eyes. Her perfectly black eyes.
Isabel answered with the only word it knew.
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rustandsky · 4 months
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May We Survive.
Happy Winter Solstice
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toxicgothsyndrome · 1 year
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25 January 2023
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yamirexic · 3 months
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squarewolf77 · 5 days
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I feel like I have been here for days now. Sitting idly by. walking the same path back and forth on autopilot. I hardly feel conscious most of the time, like my mind is running in the background yet never fully aware of whats happening. Sometimes, in small moments I can feel the sand blowing against me. Feel the warmth of the sun.
Tomorrow is my last day here. Been two whole weeks and not a hint of movement. Not that I'm complaining the calm is preferable to the alternative. Every now and then the sensors will light up and pull my attention to something but it's usually a stray bird or the like. The whiplash of the being pulled forward to such a state of focus and then drift back into the background can be pretty taxing on the mind. I will definitely enjoy the few days rest after this.
It's finally here, the last day. The new squad shuffled in and we are out of here. The last day is always tough. First they bring you all the way froward to run a systems check. Then you are pushed so far back you may as well be in a coma. Supposedly its cause the mind cant handle the strain of the desync. Gotta admit even in that unconscious state if feels like I am being torn in half.
All systems are in the green.
Preparing for desync
3
2
1
What.....what is this? Where am I?
Fuck my head is killing me.
Wait, I... I don't remember it feeling like this before.
A rush of air, its defining. I can feel the cold all over my skin. It's never felt this cold before. Is my body shivering or seizing?
The...The light pouring through the crack its blinding. Why won't my vision calibrate? Why can I still see it even when my eyes are closed?
Release that one over there.
I've got this one.
Ok, lets get them up.
Nice and slow.
Make sure to hold them up now we're almost there.
Fuck. I can hardly keep my head up.
I feel like I can hardly move.
Was I always this weak? No.. No I swear I could... Wait no was that?
Ok your gonna feel a slight pinch alright.
Everything is ok you're doing great.
I... I...I...I..... This what is it?
I...It's all coming back. I can feel my fingers agin.
The tendons in my arm, feels like they are recalibrating.
Each, finger
one at a time.
Ok last thing we're gonna disconnect the cable ok.
It's gonna feel a little strange ok but nothing you haven't done before alright.
Shhhhhhhhit! It feels as though my spine is being pulled out through my neck. I can feel a strong jolt through my entire body. Every part of me tense to the point I feel its gonna rip apart. Then suddenly everything lets go. There, there is nothing left, it, she's ...n.. nevermind.
Ok thats it!
You did fantastic!
Take your time ok when you're ready we're gonna help you up and get you outta there ok.
My hands come up slowly, aching, to cradle my head. I feel my fingers slide with apprehension across my forehead and through the thin layer of fuzz on my head. It's soft, cut short. it feels good as my hands lightly brush against it. My fingers slide even further back, down the back of my neck all the way to the port at the base. They trace the edges of it, where the cold metal meets my skin, the point where we were just one. My arms close around my face as I feel tears begin to roll down my cheeks.
It's more than just the desync. They rip out a part of me ever time I step out of that cockpit. I can feel memories, absent. Gaps where it wasn't just you or me but us, missing. I am only half of a whole agin. An incomplete being. They pull us apart to make us rely on them make us serve them. I always forget when we are together but it becomes painfully clear when you are no longer there.
It's ok, take all the time you need.
Your mind will reacclimate just give it time.
A lie they tell every time. Sure it becomes more bearable over time, but your absence is always felt. The echos of you in my mind linger. I know it is only a week without you but I can't seem to gather the strength to step out of the cockpit. To leave you behind. Alone. I sit motionless in your frame. Both of us touching yet unable to connect.
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veeveetheheretic · 1 month
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taking comfort with the dead.
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Alex Venezia (1993-) "Melancholia"
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lonely-writer17 · 2 months
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I don’t think anyone will ever truly understand me. The realization is even further isolating.
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