“Hey Gordon,” I say, approaching my friend to greet him kindly. He never responded, but he always seemed to appreciate the greeting back in the days of Black Mesa.
Gordon turned to me slowly, his expression frozen in a blank, cold, dead-eyed stare. His gaze pierced through my soul like a dagger. I could see through his eyes deep into his mind, and I felt something die inside of me. It must have been in response to seeing the things no one should ever have to see.
“The war,” he uttered, his tone sounding lost, like he was somewhere else.
Gordon turned, his ass cheeks fluttering in the wind and bouncing with the rhythm of his leg movement. A faint clap could be heard with every step. As he scurried away, I felt an emptiness in my soul. One that will live inside of me until the end of days.
sometimes it seems like you have an infinite stock of cursed doodles and sketches stored away somewhere and you‘re just waiting for some innocent soul to ask a somewhat related question so you can release another batch of hellspawn doodles upon this cursed land.i i‘m willing to bet my life on the fact that you have like a fuckin.. pafl vore au doodle somewhere in your files and you’re just awaiting a chance to show it to the world and cause irreversible psychological damage to anyone who sees it
1. unironically kinda true
2. i am genuinely surprised i DON’T have any horrible vore doodles, however i do have this and i hope that it is sufficiently horrifying
Have some pain. Rex and a dead shiny. I can imagine Rex at some private points just get overwhelmed by the constant loss of his brothers. In this image I imagined that the shiny had been a charming kid who Rex found fun, maybe some potential there… and then he is killed and here we are.
Ink and markers.
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