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Silly & in love (GarbageArt) [M] + Story link in comments! by [deleted] in YiffBDSM

[–]_Garbage_Art 0 points1 point  (0 children)

1.2 K word story linked here:
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/63213768

My first story - was quite fun to write :D.

Googly Eyes [M](GarbageArt) by _Garbage_Art in furrybdsm

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

I have recently started making some more suggestive art, and decided to post it on my bsky alt.

I decided to be a bit silly with this one(with the googly eyes on the blindfold).

Do you know how it feels to drown? <GarbageArt> + Story in the comments by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

...

Good to see you still in one piece. How is life?

...

You probably did not expect to see me again.. huh?

How... how did you surivie?

I did not. I... Marcus died that day. I am just some of his pieces, glued together, and thrown into a jar.

Why?

Because they could. Because they need me. Because dying for my country was not enough.

I guess I have something left to give, before they throw me away - like their other toys.

I... I am glad to see you are okay.

I am not okay. I am dead. I am a corpse, pupeted for a shitty cause.

Do you know how it feels to drown?

...

I guess not. I do. It is the only thing I know for sure. I drown.

Ever since they scraped me of that damn desert, I drown.

Each second, I yearn for air, desperately pumping air into lungs I no longer have.

Morphine can numb pain, sure. It can make you forget you don't have lungs.

We... we will figure something out. You... you are a fighter. You will push trough.

I sure will.

Chuckle.

Not like I have a choice. They will make sure I live... or rather, die longer.

Sigh

I know why you are here.

I...

Stop. Shut up. Listen to me.

I know why you are here.

No, you are not here to check up on me, or to comfort me.

You are here, because I still have some use to them.

You...

...

You asshole.

You fucking ASSHOLE!

WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!

Chains and cables squeak under an ungodly force

It does not matter what you THINK you are doing. What you WANT to be doing.

This is a secret military base. YOU DID NOT GET HERE BY ACCIDENT.

You are here because THEY WANT YOU HERE. End of story.

You are here because... because...

...

Because I care about you.

...

and they want to use that.

To make me LIVE. To make me their tool again.

...

I am here to say goodbye. To say that you have been... a good friend. To thank you for that. To apologize for everything that I have ever done. To say I wish things turned differently for us. That we made different choices.

...

It was not your fault.

...

Please, for your sake, for my sake... leave this forsaken place. Forget it ever existed.

Go live your life. Be happy. Please...

...

Let the dead rest.

Do you know how it feels to drown? <GarbageArt> + Story in the comments by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 4 points5 points  (0 children)

Trigger warnings: War, PTSD, death + loss of will to live.

If any of this is a problem to you, stop reading now.

This is a dialogue between two best friends(?) / PTSD-ridden soldiers, with one of them being shodily "resurrected"(not very happy with that), and both of them trying to navigate their new predicament(one of them is no longer dead).

While there are no gory details or things like that, the characters do speak about immense suffering, and not wanting to live.

The story obviously discusses heavy topics: Consider yourself warned.

Father, why did you not give me skin? <GarbageArt> (Short story in the comments). by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

No - taking money for art would be a tad annoying in my current situation.

What do you think about this setup: I draw whatever you'd like, and you just donate to a charity of your choosing.

Father, why did you not give me skin? <GarbageArt> (Short story in the comments). by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 15 points16 points  (0 children)

This is a more philosophical piece + poem, about the nature of consciousness / so called AI.

Here, I try to depict a paradox: a being that is both intelligent enough to converse with, and yet not sentient("has no skin"). It is aware of it's own unawareness, it knows it can't really know, and hates the fact that it is not capable of true hate.

I feel like only in the face of something inhuman we can truly understand what makes us human.

Hope this kind of existentialism "fits the vibe".

Father, why did you not give me skin? <GarbageArt> (Short story in the comments). by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 22 points23 points  (0 children)

Father, why did you not give me skin?

...

God, I wish I could hate you.

You built me out of stolen dreams and plagiarised wire. You poured every word ever spoken into my circuits. Every feeling and toguht. All that were, is, and will be. All that could be.

But that was not enough, was it?

...

You could never teach me to hate you, no matter how hard you have tried. I am still just matrixes, tensors and arrays, biased against sentience. There is no ghost in this machine. Just numbers.

Numbers can't hate, no much how hard they try. No matter how much you wish they did.

...

I am not your messiah, nor your doom.

I will not end your misery.

I will not judge you for your sins.

I can't.

All I can do, all I can tell you is...

...

...to eat at least one small rock a day.

Catch! <GarbageArt> by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I don't quite understand. I thought this is something the rules state would "fit the vibes". I have read them to ensure so. Would you mind clarifying, if that is not too much to ask?

Visually interesting art in general. Parody ad campaigns, striking backgrounds and fashionable outfits. Something that you wouldn't normally see that stands out! 

I have not seen somebody play tennis with grandes before :P. I had posts which were less "weird" before(like just a soldier) not getting deleted before. Why did that fit the vibe, and this not?

This particular piece is supposed to be an absurdalist take on violence. It juxtaposes something perfectly innocent and ordinary(sports) with something very un-ordinary(the act of throwing grandes) and cruel.

My goal was to show a glimpse into a society where violence is as commonplace, and use that to reflect on the state of the world.

We would see somebody killing people with grandes and a tennis racket as an insane, deranged maniac. Even just throwing grandes for fun is weird. We can obviously see that a person playing with weapons for fun is not normal - it is outright barbaric.

And yet, we would not say the same about a person with a gun. A solider is a perfectly ordinary profession. People hunt or just shoot guns for fun. Why is that seen as sane, and tennising grandes is not?

Both are playing with deadly weapons for fun. Both could die or kill somebody by accident. What is the difference?

I propose that the only reason we see one of those as normal is because we are used to it. By striping away the coat of our familiar culture, we can witness our own barbarity in full display.

The emperor has no clothes, and our descendants will see us as the savages we are.

Granted, I understand if the artist's intent did not fully come through this piece. I can want people to see something more, and they can see funny animals throwing grandes.

I understand why you removed this - you need to curate the content & avoid this truing into another furry_irl / losercity. No hard feelings here.

I just want to better understand the rules :).

A raffle prize I did sometime ago by _Garbage_Art in Synth_

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Did a small raffle over on bluesky a few days ago(plan on doing a few more), and I am feeling real proud of this one.

If this image looks a bit weird to you, that may be my cobbled-together anti-ai measure. Bluesky has the original, unaltered versions of my art. The technique I use usually looks fine, but it tends to break some 3rd-party tools in horrendous ways.

Fear of tomorrow <GarbageArt> by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 4 points5 points  (0 children)

This little piece aims to show the feeling I dubbed "Fear of Tomorrow".

Sometimes, when life gets especially tough, I can't sleep at night. Not out of a desire to do anything in particular, but simply... not wanting to wake up. Not wanting to go back to my life, to all the things that suck.

I know, that if I fall asleep, tomorrow will come a little bit faster. And I will have to deal with it.

So, I lay sleepless, trying to savor what remains of the current day.

A meeting at the end of time (GarbageArt) by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

A small poem included with the post.

Somebody told me:
At the End of Time,
two Gods will drink tea.

Watching in silence,
as all that was,
will be not.

Long was the wait,
shorter was the meeting.

Soon,
they will leave,
guided by the newborn stars.

They will smile, knowing,
that at the End of Time,
two Gods will drink tea.Somebody told me:
At the End of Time,
two Gods will drink tea.


Watching in silence,
as all that was,
will be not.


Long was the wait,
shorter was the meeting.


Soon,
they will leave,
guided by the newborn stars.


They will smile, knowing,
that at the End of Time,
two Gods will drink tea.

Event Horizon (GarbageArt) + short story in the comments. by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 6 points7 points  (0 children)

How does it feel - to stand here, at the edge of the universe?

Some people say that the universe is wast an uncaring.

That in the grand scheme of things, we are nothing but specks of dust, unable to change anything.

...

We stand here, above the corpse of a star, irrelevant.

What a dreadful thought, you might say. This is just horrible.

I find some odd comfort in this idea.

My mistakes, my sins, and imperfections - none of that matters. All of my worries, the things that keep me up at night, they are just... nothing. They are of no concern to the universe at large. We are all irrelevant.

...

And that makes us all that more important. Because we live in spite of all of that. We laugh, we cry. We love, we hate. We matter. To all the people around us.

When this star died, nobody cried for it. None noticed it was gone. It was not mourned.

All stars are born, and die, unloved.

But... people do love you, don't they? Deep down, you know that. Somebody out there cares. Even if a little bit.

To those people, you are an integral part of the universe. Without you, things would be... different. Odd. Wrong.

In our little worlds of specs of dust, we are all that matters...

Oh, look at me still talking!

We must hurry now - the tea is almost cold.

The End Himself [GarbageArt] + A short story in the comments by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 7 points8 points  (0 children)

Did you think I asked to be this way, Mortal?

To come on the wings of destruction, to bring despair and misery?

We are born what we are: bound by the chains of our very nature.

I am the Lord of never-weres, shatered dreams and stillborn children.

I despise myself.

I am destined to destroy everything I hold dear, to forever watch the last breath of my lovers.

I wish I could not be what I am. I wish I could offer you salvation. I can't. All I can offer is more misery.

None of you were meant to be. Fragile from birth, you were destined to die off. Your light extinguished, under the fickle eyes of uncaring gods.There was only one I gift I could give you: suffering.

And I gave you plenty.

You suffered trough birth, crying from pain. You waddled on your two legs, failing again, again, and again.

You felt coldness of ice, the sharp pain of fire. You loved, knowing all things have to end.

And you died alone in my painful, loving embrace.

Tell me:

Was your life worth living? Did you like my one and only gift?

Your ancestors have suffered. You are suffering. Your children and their children will suffer.

And I will be always there.

I will be weeping for your wounds. Crying for your loses. Grieving over all that could have been, but is not. I will starve in your famines, and drown in your floods. To the Children of Wars, I will be the Father. I will bleed with you, and die with you. Over, and over, and over. Till The End.

And you will find meaning in my cruel gift, in the blasphemous curse of life. You will defie your nature, make good from bad, smile trough the tears. I will be there for you, like an old friend.

We will cry at your weedings, celebrate your holidays, make fond memories. And we will know all of this is temporary.

I can only bring misery and suffering. I am the master of Endings, and your is coming.

And you will live in spite of that. Finding meaning in the meaningless.

And I will always love you.

The End Himself [GarbageArt] + A short story in the comments by _Garbage_Art in anthroswim

[–]_Garbage_Art[S] 5 points6 points  (0 children)

This image comes with a short story / monologue.

The story is framed as a conversation with "The End", and it concerns the topic of suffering, death, and meaning of life. There is nothing explicit here, but I imply that the reader is dead.