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2001hz · 9 months

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Cannabis Works 2 (2017) Artworks Illustrated By: Tatsuyuki Tanaka

#cannabis #cannabis works 2 #2017 #artbook #cyberpunk #diesel punk #illustrations #tatsuyuki tanaka #tatsuyuki tanaka archive

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safwunnz · 7 months

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Uhh just made this in class for fun lol

the diesel Murder time trio 🙏🙏🫶😫🛐🛐

Grrrrrkfprjfo I love that they’re all different shapes :3 makes them more unique >.<

ALSO FUCK YEAH HORROR’S A BIG FUCKING BOY

here are the measurements in centimeters btw

Killer: 172cm

Dust: 179cm

Horror: 195cm

*cOUgH* planning on making nm even bigger *COUgH*

#blud’s almost 2 whole ass meters tall 💀💀#undertale #imagine me making nm as big as like- mafia tale sans 🤭🤭#haha i m a g i n e t h a t .#art #undertale au #doodle #DieselAU #killer sans #killertale #horror sans #horrortale #dust sans #dusttale #murder time trio #bad sanses #diesel punk

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aesthetic-otd · 5 months

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Today's aesthetic is dieselpunk

#aesthetic #aesthetic blog #aesthetics #aesthetic otd #aesthetics blog #aesthetic community #aesthetic blogs #dieselpunk #diesel punk #retro futurism #retro futuristic

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h0neytune-cherub · 4 months

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Tatsuyuki Tanaka (via)

#Tatsuyuki Tanaka #absolute gems of a selection on this website #art #illustration #love #favorite artists #diesel punk #character design

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comradebeandip · 4 months

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METROPOLIS (2001)

Directed by Rintaro

Cinematography by Hitoshi Yamaguchi

#film #film stills #movies #movie stills #cinema #cinemetography #cinephile #anime #rintaro #osamu tezuka #hitoshi yamaguchi #metropolis #metropolis 2001 #2001 #scifi #dystopia #diesel punk #cyberpunk

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apocalypse-lover · 6 months

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#wastelandwarriors #arphchaos #wasteland #post apocalypse #larp #doomsday #post apocalyptic #capitalism #apocalypse #anarchy #steampunk #diesel punk #punk #grunge #madmax #dark aesthetic

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topcat77 · 2 years

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Robert LaDuke American artist

#robert laduke #diesel punk

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spaceintruderdetector · 1 year

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https://archive.org/details/northrop-flying-wings/mode/2up

#warplanes #flying wing #diesel punk #dieselpunk

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nocternalrandomness · 5 months

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"Steampunk Air Pirate"

#Steampunk #Diesel Punk #Cosplay #Air Pirate #Model #alternative model #photography #Airship Captain #Steampunk Pirate #Steampunk Model

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beasts-flesh · 9 months

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Monkey ocs from 2021

They live in a diesel punk future setting. They participate in illegal street racing. All mod cars. Leslie and Jackie are dating.

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theredhavendelegate · 3 months

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Iss. 2:

A Brave New World? Redhaven In Limbo!

Although rescue efforts are still ongoing, the conditions on the ground have begun to stabilize. Meanwhile troubled citizens from the countryside make their way downtown with unusual reports.

Creatures of a supernatural origin have been spotted many miles outside the city limits. Glass-like birds, enormous hogs with rocky skin, and glowing insect swarms are just a few of those thus far reported, and though they seem largely passive, citizens are advised to keep their distance.

Additionally, the roads that once connected Redhaven to the rest of Eudax appear to only lead into a dense grey-purple fog. Those that have entered it and returned fall ill and perish soon thereafter. Citizens are likewise advised to keep their distance.

A member of the Field Workers Local 13, Jens Dahl, has provided The Redhaven Delegate with an interview concerning his first-hand experience with one of these anomalies, a warning tale... ---

The ground shakes. The shake goes up his legs and into his stomach. Wind tears up the loose soil, lashing him with small stones and debris. The dust grows thick enough to block out the sun and to choke the farmhand.

Jens feels his knees knock together then give out. Even lying down, the vertigo roils beneath his pounding skull. His nose fills will dirt, and more piles up on his legs and torso. He flails his arms, struggling for force himself above a building tide of soil.

All at once, it stops.

The weight releases its grip on Jens, then all of gravity does as well. The ground drops out from beneath him and he falls along with it.

A sick feeling grows in his stomach as the earth pulls away, inch by inch, only connected to him by a thin stream of loose dirt.

The ground stops, and for a split second, Jens continues to fall. Then he catches up.

Darkness surrounds him for a time, envelops him, and he floats on it dreamily until his eyes snap suddenly open to reveal a soft, grey, sunless sky. His head throbs and he turns onto his side, hacking up a wad of something thick and crimson.

He stays down. He squeezes his eyes shut and slaps one arm around in the dirt until his knuckles rap against something hard. He takes it up, pulls it close.

It has a wooden handle with a flat, steel blade set ninety degrees to the shaft. It is gnarled, grey with the sun's bleaching, but sturdy and familiar. Jens rises, leaning hard on the tool, and grumbles, "Lucky that I didn't land on ya, right?"

The hoe doesn't respond and Jens coughs up again, another wad of phlegm with less blood in it.

The farmhand glances around at the ruined field. The harvest is badly upturned, whole rows are torn out, twisted, and covered in soil. A barn a few hundred feet away is leaning at nearly a forty-five degree angle and a shed next to it has been reduced to scrap. Jens grumbles some more and runs a tanned, liver-spotted hand through his short grey hair, sending a cascade of dirt to the ground behind himself as he straightens his locks.

"Bad for the harvest. It's been a good year so far though, I just...I..." Jens mouth falls slightly slack as his eyes fall to a the sight of an uncommon plant nearby: a pale hand, sticking crookedly out of a pile of gravel and dirt.

Jens swallows. He waits to see if the pile heaves. He waits to see if the hand twitches.

It does not.

The farmhand holds up five fingers for a moment, then lowers one.

He starts limping off down the rows in silence. His body protests, a fact he ignores with practiced indifference.

The sky isn't evenly clouded. The air itself is just grey. There isn't even a hint of a sun, no bright patch, no thin golden rays. There's no wind either. The barley and the wheat stand to crooked, disinterested attention.

Jens carries himself to the end of the aisle and up a hill. Looking down from another, majestic and imperious, is a farmhouse painted a sunny yellow that contracts mockingly with the atmosphere.

The roofs sags slightly, though it always has, and one of the windows in the front is blown in. That's new.

Jens moves towards it steadily, huffing by the top and leaning harder on his makeshift cane.

He knocks on the white door and rasps, "Is anyone in? Did you all see what happened?"

There is no response and, a moment later, the door falls off of its hinges and thuds against the wooden floor.

The interior of the house seems to whisper, beckoning, until Jens enters. The entryway is clear save for a coat that lies on a tilted rack and a pair of muddy boots thrown haphazardly across the floor.

Jens rights the rack and sets the shoes up in their cubby on reflex, swallowing down the tickle in his throat instead of coughing it out.

He steps beyond the entryway and into the kitchen. The window is blown out and the chairs are scattered. One of them is shattered, it's back, legs, and seat separated like tinker toys.

A stout woman with brown hair lies beneath a planter box, her chest, arms, and face pierced and peppered with fragments of glass. Her arms are splayed out and her eyes are as lifeless as marbles.

Jens swallows. He waits for her chest to rise. It does not.

He holds up four fingers for a moment, then lowers one.

Jens taps his hoe on the floor a moment and shakes his head.

The quiet of the house continues to whisper, Jens' own breath echoing, the floorboards creaking as he shifts his weight onto and off of the tool in his hand.

It whispers for a long time. Jens listens, but it doesn't make sense. It's as if the house knows that something terrible has happened, as if it knows why, but won't share it.

A call breaks the quiet through the shattered window. Jens startles at the sound and rushes to the front door, so much as he can. He shoves it open and stumbles up against the porch railing.

The skies are still ashen and the field still upturned. In the midst of it though, there is movement: three figures, two clearly human, one clearly not, circle each other like wolves.

The two people, a young man with a pitchfork and a young woman with an axe, shout and cry out at the other creature, lashing out with their tools to keep it at bay.

Their foe is formed improperly, with an abdomen like a horse, but its long legs are angular and pointed like those of an insect, and there is a puckered orifice where there should be a head.

Jens starts down the hill with his hoe, three fingers held at his side subconsciously. The young man jabs with the fork and shouts, "Git, you! Git away from here!"

The beast hisses and lunges towards him, batting the tool away with a sharp leg and slicing the youngster's arm open to expose muscle and bone.

Jens stumbles partly as pain flairs in one of his knees. He catches himself, but his vision dulls as he starts to move again. When he looks up, the woman has buried her axe into the beast, black blood dripping off of it like syrup, pooling in the dirt as it shrieks.

The monster flashes towards her and knocks her to the ground, then turns back to the young man and sets upon him with a storm of piercing blows; into his chest, into his neck, into his arms, until he stops swinging back.

Jens drops one of his fingers as the distance vanishes. There is fury in his mind, but his other organs voice their disagreement sharply: his lungs hack and shudder, his eyes blear, and as he closes in on his target, tool raised aloft, a pain erupts in his chest, something akin to intense heartburn, and he slumps into the dirt.

Jens' hand closes into a loose fist as vision fails him.

Darkness surrounds him for a time, envelops him, and he floats on it dreamily until his eyes snap suddenly open to reveal a soft, grey, sunless sky. His head throbs and he turns onto his side, hacking up a wad of something thick and crimson.

A woman stands over him, her face and clothes spattered with black, reeking fluid.

She whispers, "Jens, are you okay?"

He tries to smile. He scowls instead. "Ingrid?" There is a pause, and he asks, between rasping breaths, "Just us left?"

She doesn't answer, just turns her head to look at a pitchfork, bent and discarded in the dirt.

"Just us," she finally says.

"Just us."

---

First Next

#writing #writblr #trd #the redhaven delegate #unreality #unreality tw #violence #death #gore #blood #horror #scifi #diesel punk #violence tw #death tw #gore tw #blood tw #TRD: Jens Dahl #TRD: Ingrid Larsen

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safwunnz · 7 months

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another comic I made of these two 🫢 I can’t get enough of them omfg-

……..

what, did ya think I wasn’t gonna draw dust doing the same thing? WELL YOU’RE WRONG CUZ I’M A SIMP-

GRRRBAKRBARKBARK 🐶🐶🐶🐶🐕🐕

Killer made him do it later

Diesel!Dust and Diesel!Killer made by meeeeee

#undertale #art #undertale au #doodle #DieselAU #diesel punk #killer sans #killertale #dust sans #dusttale

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nue-staregrade · 1 year

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In the beginning, Nue Staregrade was not called Nue Staregrade, or even Staregrade, but a series of interconnected villages in the region we call the Cradle of Humankind, which lies at the intersection of the Great East, Evrop, and the Cainfri continent.

It has become the greatest commercial crossroads in the history of the world, protecting it from most (not all) wars, no matter the outcome.

But Sarhachaleim (one of the original names of Nue Staregrade) was the birthplace of the three most influential and powerful culturoligions in human history, making it the most sacred place on the planet.

All this allowed Nue Staregrade to grow at an extraordinary speed and in a totally chaotic way. Today, it is not only the center of the world, but also the largest city man has ever seen, almost the size of a small continent and visible from space, stretching from the western end of Mogrhebia to the edge of the Kavkaz Hills.

Despite cross-cultural tensions bordering on civil war and the incompetence of the city leadership to keep historic buildings from collapsing into the streets, people from all over the world keep flocking to this surreal, sprawling megalopolis, forbidden by the city overcomplicated laws to pass through the famous indestructible Red Door they set up slums at the foot of the city’s third ring wall.

#world building #cyberpunk #diesel punk #cassette futurism #my art #original character #original art #oc

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sarahcarapace · 1 year

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some cute girlfriends from Dungeon Bitches - Death Spiral the Cerboros (beetle gal) is a trans Amazon and the Maggot Gorgon is like a she/her/it/it’s Firebrand.

#Sarah Carapace Arts #bug girls #monster girls #buff women #queer #lesbian #Dungeon Bitches #Death Spiral #meat world #diesel punk

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doctor-meaty · 9 months

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🤠HOWDY🤠

🤹LIVE NOW🤹

🤠HOWDY🤠

🤹LIVE NOW🤹

[HTTPS://LINKTR.EE/DOCTORMEATY]

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apocalypse-lover · 1 year

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#beautiful women #apocaliptic #post apocalyptic #wasteland #lesbian #wlw #larp #rrr #recycle #diesel punk #dystopia #nuclear winter #cyberpunk #doomsday #raider #viking #vulture culture #warpaint

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