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#he is so fucked up
carsaadi · 28 days
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Low quality idiot
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corvidaeconundrum · 4 months
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i LOVE your tma au but why make coomer the flesh and not the vast?
TW/Body Horror, Blood, Injury
I actually never considered The Vast before! Or any other entity now that I think about it- The Flesh was kind of just an instant choice for me
It mainly came from the whole cybernetic enhancement bit, as it was the most long running Coomer specific bit asides from his messed up dialogue, and the whole 'climbing into your arm to wear you like a skin suit' thing just screamed Flesh to me. (Stranger too, but Tommy already had that role)
In the story, Coomer kind of functions like Jared Hopworth, being able to steal parts from people(typically dead) and add them to himself, which meshed well with the clones aspect since in canon anytime he killed one it would 'grow his power'
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softkya · 2 months
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I recommend that you RUN Simon, my dear
This part of the game is one of the ones that gave me the most anxiety.
This drawing is also a bit experimental, I have done things that I had done very little in digital. The background (minus the graffiti) are edited and cut copyright-free photographs and I have used "Textured" brushes I like the result.
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hrghhhhhhhhh · 5 months
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:C
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5hrignold · 8 months
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im kind of losing the idgaf about winter king war.. im not even attracted to him he’s just an interesting character to me. he’s just another poor simon except he took it too far by wrapping everyone else up in his state of fucked up ecstasy. he’s only ever joyful because he couldn’t bare to feel what he did back then, he doesn’t know anything apart from the weird rituals he has set up in his little wonderland
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demodraws0606 · 7 months
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You could literally make an entire analysis of q!BBH's manipulating Fred but god help me I have university stuff to do.
All I can say is that I want to squeeze this little demon guy so bad, stop using your own grief to your advantage.
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sansxfuckyou · 1 year
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Pain keeps setting in deeper
Summary: It's the middle of a fight he shouldn't be breaking down, nobody gave him permission, he shouldn't even be here
Warnings: Violence, minor blood, break downs, bittersweetness (good friend on Ao3 said so at least), open ending
Authors Note: I WANTED TO POST THIS YESTERDAY BUT I HAD ALREADY HIT POST LIMIT, so yeah, anyways have a kross fanfic, I'm not sure anyone will actually see it, but if ya do, a reblog always does wonders for the writing motivation, hope you enjoy todays ruination of the boy!
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Cross was ready to scream, Cross was ready to sob, Cross was ready to submit.
But he refused.
(It was really Chara but it was him because who else could it be?)
Hands pressed firmly to his skull he crumbled to the ground, everything raged on around him, he wasn't worth the world stopping and he knew that. His eyes were stuck on the white ground, his vision was starting to blur, his soul was starting to ache. This was too much, he's mortal, he shouldn't be here, this isn't a fight for mortals to bear witness too, but here he is. Him, and his teammates, all of which are painfully mortal, it's like Nightmare forgot he's the only one who'll survive until he's forgotten.
He's bleeding out on the floor of the anti-void and no one cares. He can see his marrow pool around him but he knows he won't die because Chara isn't ready to go yet. He knows that no matter how fast he loses blood or how long the air is pressed from his chest he will survive even though he's mortal. He shouldn't be here, he should be at home, but ha, home is long gone, he migrates now, but he has nowhere to return to.
Dream collides with him, knocking a crack into his humerus and Cross can't even muster a sound. All he can do is let the tears fall faster as he hands drop into the thin layer of marrow surrounding him (it's seeping into his clothing, an ugly purple). Then he's falling, he doesn't even catch the transition as he falls into a searing heat- arms wrap around him and then they're in snow. Arms are still latching onto him tightly and a warmth soaks into his spine- his breathing tries to even but only stalls.
"Criss-Cross," Killer spoke gently, his voice a dulcet guide in the chaos of Crosses mind.
Cross froze up, of course it was Killer, of course it had to be Killer who gets him out of there, "yeah?" His voice is a quaking sob he tried to quiet for the sake of his dignity.
"You don't have to come on missions all the time, you know that right?" Killer slowly loosened his grasp on Crosses midsection, the shake in his monochromatic counterpart resumed even strong than before.
"Then," a painful, stifled sob, "then how come you guys are always going on missions?" Cross shifted himself off of Killer and into the snow.
"Oh baby," pain laces Killers voice, of course Cross didn't know, of course he didn't know he could take a break, "whenever Nightmare sends us out on duo missions instead that's because someone needs to stay home," Killer props himself upright, "wanna talk about anything Criss-Cross?"
Cross doesn't know what to say, all he does is try to sit up and keep his posture straight, Cross nods, then shakes his head, he nods again, "I don't know- I know! It's not an answer! I know," once again light sobs overlay his voice as he cries out into the darkness of Snowdins forest.
Killer placed a hand on Crosses back and gently rubbed circles, "it's plenty of an answer," Cross smiles a bit.
"It's not- not for a mortal at least," a hint of laughter is on his voice as he speaks, he brings up a hand to shove aside the tears sliding down his skull- purple sinks into his white clothing like a stain.
Killer doesn't speak.
"None of us should be out there fighting that fight, that's a fight for gods, but here we are, mortals with the burdens of immortals- we should be dead Killer, but we aren't," Cross doesn't even know what he's saying, he just knows it's lifting some sort of weight off of him and right now that's all that really matters, "I don't want to fight this fight, I just want to die already, like I was supposed to if it weren't for Chara- I want to go home," Cross is gripping his humeri as he speaks in a cracked and raw voice, tears he just wiped away replenish themselves twice as fast and his form shakes with sobs.
"You know what they say," Killer almost smirks as he speaks, "home is where the heart is," Cross looks up to find Killer with outstretched arms, "please?"
Cross collapses into the touch with ease, he relishes in the warmth Killer emanates, he revels in how much comfort he can draw from such a simple action. He's glad to have something to touch as he sobs, something to anchor himself as he let's go, something to keep him real even if only for a moment. He doesn't want to let go of this moment, of this touch, of this intimacy- the way he's being held and it's not by the collar of his shirt or his ankles.
All he can is want it to never end even though he knows it has too soon enough.
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pepperbenmin666 · 2 years
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Mf forest rat
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ashintheairlikesnow · 10 months
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Hello there!
I haven‘t heard of my favourite vampire for a long time. Let‘s see some Erich ultimately giving into his new nature. Pls 🥺👉👈
"Erich was slowly but surely starting to enjoy himself, feeling his humanity slipping away from him."
Dresden, East Germany, 1947
With every passing day, Erich Eeten was slowly - but surely - starting to... enjoy it.
The feeling of skin torn apart by his teeth, the rush of hot blood on his tongue and down his throat, warm skin that went cold as he drank and took another life, and another, and another... It had gone from a horror to an ecstasy, each time the idea that he was doing harm seemed further and further from his mind.
It felt like his humanity was slipping away from him.
More and more often, he found he did not care. He lived, after all, in the ruins of the greatest inhumanity he could ever have imagined.
Tonight, he walked with his hands buried in the pockets of a great overcoat, a cap pulled down low to shield the vaguely feline, inhuman pupils of his gleaming eyes. The ruins of the bombed-out city felt like observers all their own, piles of brick and rubble that seemed to sway towards him and then away.
The darkness slid around him like liquid, and the person he was following did not see him at all.
Why he had even wanted to return to Germany, he wasn't sure. To see his homeland desecrated and wrecked, the land of his father broken by the bombs that it had carelessly egged on again and again... Then split in two.
In the First War, they had taught he and the other soldiers, too young to know better, that there was glory in fighting for your country. Thousands had wandered home with shellshock and nightmares to show for their grand ideals and the ambitions of old rich men who sent the young and poor to die in the fields of France.
If he were going to weep for what Germany lost, he would have done so in 1918.
Here - now - all he could feel was the hunger that was never quite satisfied.
He sidestepped a fallen stone as he moved past the ruins of a grand church. Two walls were all that stood now, the curve on one side and straight lines on the other. A statue of Martin Luther still held court, looming with solemn dignity over the death of worship.
Someone had laid flowers beneath Luther's stone feet. They had gone gray, brown, and dried.
The man Erich followed had paused to light a cigarette, his matches a bright flicker of flame in the ever-present darkness.
Erich felt the ache in his fangs that longed to be buried in soft living skin. He swallowed, shifting slightly to the side. He let the shadows hide him.
It mattered so much less, now, if he knew someone had done harm or not.
Only the old rich men ever truly won the wars. The young and poor only went home to wait until they were forced to fight another.
And was it any worse to take life from a need to survive, than it was to order men like chess pieces to fall and be lost for nothing but vanity and ambition?
At least Erich kills clean.
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wibble-wobbegong · 2 years
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no you DONT UNDERSTAND. HE FUCKING SCRATCHED HIS BACK BRO. HE WAS FUCKING EHDFFSSNHSBFGDJZGGSSHD HE WAS FINALLY ABLE TJ TOUCH MIKE AND DID THE ABSOLUTE MOST WITH IT. MAN LITERALLY STROKED HIS THUMB AND SCRATCHED HIS BACK WITH THE ONLY CHANCE HE GOT TO REALLY FEEL MIKE AGAIN IM GONNA SHOOT MYSEL
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fluidfox123 · 7 months
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This is an Izzy appreciation blog if you hate him get out/j
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lestat is such a silly guy
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bornetoblood · 1 year
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I need to write a gehrman analysis at some point I think the more I think about him the more upset I get.
I need to sit down with him so he can have a loooong therapy session, maybe some tea as well. And then he needs to be hit really hard over the head with the kirkhammer.
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demodraws0606 · 6 months
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Yep now I see why Cucurevil might be the third evil that's worse than the codes and the eggs, this bitch reeks of fucked up and I love it
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bitcrush-art · 1 year
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Special fuck you to @rootintootingoosin I’m posting the Cain shit now that I finished the last sketch I had I hate you I hope you die (joke)
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