#tw: implied deaths

[duskoon]

Yandere!Broly with a Powerful! Z-fighter!Reader:

Short answer: You will make him aggressively horni and competitive. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Long answer: is below. Takes place in movie 8, where broly had won instead of the Z-fighters.

Tw: Afab!reader, Yandere themes, Possessive behaviours, Sadism, Violence (rated e for everyone), Physical abuse, Mental abuse, Implied major characters deaths, Implied Breeding, Noncon, Marking, Dacryphilia, Slight blood kink, Dead dove do not eat.

✘ Broly cares about one thing, when it comes to his darling. That is complete domination over them and will ensure that they are absolutely his by any violent means. Be it you were weak and innocent, or powerful and headstrong.

✘ With the latter as much as he respects their determination and vigour, he will first toy with them. Then proceed to beat them within an inch of their life. Broly absolutely loves breaking his beloved’s persistent spirits as much as getting a kick (Both figuratively and literally.) out of their volatile reactions.

✘ However, he won't kill them. No. Why would he kill his own mate? His darling might, as well wish they were actually dead. Considering what's to come is far worse than what they initially expect from him.

✘ After all, they fought Freiza before with the other Z-fighters and thought he was the worst of worse. Alas, they were sadly mistaken.

✘ The Legendary Super Saiyan may not be as manipulative as his father, but he's quite an exploitative type when it comes to battles. He will go after every Z-fighter and brutalize them, leaving his beloved for last.

✘ Why? Simply, because he craves to see the despair settling in your beautiful eyes; Once you see the lives of your comrades falling one by one like flies in front of your eyes, and you can not do anything to prevent it from happening. No matter your strength, it pales in comparison to him.

✘ He's the only one allowed to hurt you. It's his way to lay a claim over you. If anyone else dared to do the same, then they will not live to tell the tale and not in the most pleasant of ways either.

✘ “Why that look? Did I.. hit a nerve? Hehaha. You should be happy. Now, no one can interrupt us. It's your fault that they've died, if only you yielded then I wouldn't have thrashed them that hard.”

✘ Broly sneered; Wiping the blood of your comrades from his meaty fists. With each step the saiyan of legend took, the land beneath him shook from his massive power and might. Whilst you held your ground, with a fierce yet pained expression.

✘ “I will kill you, if it was the last thing I will ever do. I will never yield to a heartless demon like you.”

✘ You spat. Rage boiling within your veins, as a pure white ki-ball formed atop of your blood stained hands. The blood were of your fallen comrades rather than your own.

✘ Yet, it serves as a catalyst of your rage and sorrow. Aiming at the monstrous saiyan with all the pure energy you've got, then releasing it all against him in waves of Kamehameha.

✘ “Oh.. then please do. Kill me, (Y/n). If you can, that is. Otherwise, you will be utterly mine. Your power, scent, and energy is driving me mad.”

✘ Broly retaliated with a sadistic cackle that reverberates throughout the desolate planet, never bothering to guard against your charged attack. If anything, it seems to invigorates him even more. As if your attack was nothing more than a mere tickle against his hardened skin.

✘ Regardless of your power level, you better abdicate for your own sake and sanity. Need I remind you that so long Broly stays in his LSSJ form, his strength and speed gradually increases as the battle goes on.

✘ At one point, his strength alone will overwhelm you. If it did, it won't end well for you. Mainly, because he sees the fight between you and him as an intimate game. A competition that display one’s superiority over the other.

✘ In the long term, he will win for the reasons stated above. The only thing you will manage to do is prolonging the battle, which is against your interests when dealing with Broly. When he eventually wins, then in his eyes he won the right to own you. Thus, marking you as eternally his.

✘ Tis but the instincts and culture of the saiyans, they select their mates based on their strength; The stronger, the better. Kami helps you, for you have attracted the eyes of the devil himself.

✘ With one large hand, he managed to curl it around your midriff and press your smaller frame towards his rigid, broad, and muscular pectoral. Whilst the other was busy splaying your tired legs apart. The heat emitting from his bulky body was too much for you, but not as much as the humiliation that followed after.

✘ “There isn't a place in existence, you could possibly hide from me.”

✘ The green-haired saiyan grunted, as he harshly grinded his clothed hips against yours in a fast pace. It was only when he bit the nape of your neck, did the tears cascade down your lacerated cheeks. While blood trickled down, from the sheer force of the bite.

✘ “I will not surrender. I will escape and get my vengeance. I swear by Kami’s name.”

✘ You squrimed in hopes of moving your injured body from the tight hold of the monster. Who had slaughtered your friends with sick glee and broke most of the bones in your body, save for your hands and upper torso. Anything, but this.

✘ “Your promise is an empty one; Your body has already surrendered to me. Just look at how wet you are, and here I thought I was the only freak.”

✘ He mouthed viciously, continuing his onslaught on your bloodied skin. Littering your skin with brutal bites, and lapping like a starved animal on the blood and tears that rolled down to your abused jugular.

✘ “My vow still stands. You might have taken my body forcefully, but you will never attain my soul.”

✘ You spat at his face; Trying to the best of your abilities, not to moan at his animalistic and ruthless ministrations.

✘ He was slavering, biting, squeezing, and playing with one of your mounds; Mixing your blood with his own saliva. Whilst his other unrestrained hand tended to the other, not any kinder than his hungry gnashers. It was disgusting, so was he.

✘ Pulling away from your breasts with a loud ‘pop’, one of his fingers curved under your chin and pulled it up so your humiliated irises could meet his blank and souless eyes. His bloodstained lips remains upturned in a pleased grin; completely unbothered by your outburst.

✘ “How amusing. Anyone else would've given up by now, yet you won't relent. I've decided that you are worthy to be my mate.”

✘ “No, I am not. I refuse.”

✘ Broly’s hand that was busy attending to your pert nipple, had slithered down to his absurdly big golden waistband. With agonizingly slow gait, he peeled it off alongside the mulberry sash that covered his throbbing member and lined it up against your cold entrance. To which he -without any grace or decency- had yanked the pants off your body.

✘ “I wonder... Will you have the same enticing fighting spirit, once I am finished with you? Only one way to find out.”

An: I decided to do the latter part of your request. If you want the general hc’s for him you can request for him again. Though, I do hope you enjoyed this one. Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated.

An#2: I know I have said I will publish Deep End AU the next post, but I decided to delay it due to writing complications (I am crying internally😭, because as much as I want to publish it I want it to be as best as it can be. So that you my folks can immerse in it.). Thanks for the 50 followers, I don't deserve it for my inconsistent updates but I feel obliged to thank y’all regardless.🫡

[orchid-151]

💤❗Mason

(boy a lot of ya love to ask on anon...😆)

You shake the shoulder of the villager as he seemed to shiver in his sleep...

His eyes opened with a start and he jolted up in his bed... Reaching for something... Or someone...

"Ohh..." He groaned with tiredness "Its just you anonymous beings again..."

You ask him if he is ok...

"Just a nightmare..." He told you. You ask him what it was about...

"..." He looks at you "Just you anonymous beings overwhelming us like crazy... That's a nightmare just saying it..."

You ask him if there was anything you could get him...

"maybe... Some milk... Or water I'm not picky..."

As you leave he mumbles to himself "I can barely even remember what that nightmare was about..."

(real nightmare he had below the cut 👇)

"I'm sorry.... *Crying*.... I was late... I'm sorry.... Please... Don't leave me.... Please...."

[trustymikh]

there are many benefits to being a ground-type pokemon trainer

[u3pxx]

my comic for @aabadendingzine which is out for free over here.

extra stuff/commentary under the cut | like what i do? support me on ko-fi 💙

helloooo how's it going? i really hope you enjoyed the comic <3 it's rare for me to draw such wholesome things, i know [bats eyelashes]

DFGHDJKF ok i know, it's evil, the entire zine is evil you should go read it!!!!!!! but also, i remember coming up with this prompt and the image of mikeko trying to wake a dead apollo up evoked such a visceral reaction in me that i audibly went "NOOOOOO" when i thought it up LOL

the fourth page is the first page i ever thumbnailed bc i knew EXACTLY how i wanted this thing to end!

i think my favorite page of this comic is the 2nd page (the 4th page being my second favorite bc what can i say, i'm evil wheezes) i just really enjoyed drawing the montage of apollo going about his life and kristoph just. being there. always watching him.

i keep thinking about how spark brushel mentioned feeling like he was being watched those past 7 years. i imagined apollo would get a taste of that once he starts trying to find out the truth behind what happened in his first case.

and as for my favorite panel, I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE!! it's just fun shoving every important element alluding to the case 7 years ago to the moment when zak died!

and it's not very obvious but an element i really like about this one is zak still on the chair he died on. it's just his torso visible and i would've loved to make it more obvious that he's there but oh well.

i can't think of anything else to add about drawing this so i'll end it by saying: PLEASE GO READ THE ZINE, IT'S SO SOS SOSOSOS FULL OF LOVE FOR HURT AND TRAGEDY AND THE WAY MY FELLOW ZINEMATES EXPLORED THAT IS SUCH!!! GOOD AND HEARTWRENCHING STUFF!!!!!!!!!

i had to take a break from reading the zine when i went out to finish it bc my chest started to physically hurt bc ohhhhh lordy, it just hurt. it just hurt a lot! (please do read the trigger warnings before reading the thing bc this zine deals with a lot of heavy stuff!)

i like to joke about how i'm evil and enjoy evil things such as angst no comfort which. well, it's kind of true LMAO so i'm thrilled that i was able to be a part of this zine and cook up something completely terrible <3

here's the link for it again, go read it!

[alasion-art]

🐻

[hatekawa]

I left a spot for you, just in case.

[lilbitosunny]

I still have need of you.

Lore, notes, textless version of the last page and close-ups under the cut

Anyways- Lore dump of how this Lamb went out and her thoughts/behavior during the decapitation. Decided to make her angry and fight back against the bishops even to her slaughter

My art peaked with that final page, btw- Here's a no text version and some close-ups!

[kishdoodles]

Spring

'What if Renchanting duo were the last two left' AU (with a Jesus Christ Superstar coat of paint)

[incognitopolls]

If the animal was raised & killed humanely, the dish was prepared by a trustworthy person or restaurant, and it was offered to you for free…

If you're more willing to try dog vs. cat or vice versa, answer based on which you'd be more willing to try.

Please keep it civil in the comments and be polite about food in cultures different from your own.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

[martyr-inthedark]

Make your Whumpee tired.

Whumpees that have been deprived of sleep by Whumper, so much so that they don't remember how to walk in a straight line and can't figure out whether the recent appearance of little black bugs in their cell are real or a hallucination.

Whumpees that can't get a full night's rest. They doze off, only to be jolted awake by their own anxiety of not knowing when Whumper would come back. Perhaps they are awakened by phlegm-coated coughs induced by their illness. They are awakened by nightmares, or by Caregiver who is worried they may succumb to hypothermia, or by a thunderstorm, or the rough blanket scratching their open wounds, or so on.

Whumpees who pull all nighters to protect their friends or lovers.

Whumpees whose eyes burn when they finally can close their eyes. Whumpees whose muscles twitch, who can't stop yawning no matter how hard they try to stifle it. Whumpees with dark, glassy eyes. Whumpees who are slow to react or have a hard time keeping up with the conversation. Whumpees with throbbing headaches. Whumpees with brain fog and memory loss.

Whumpees who have been on the run and have over exhausted their bodies. Their muscles and joints continue to scream long after its over. Whumpees with extensive blood loss. Whumpees who are malnourished.

Whumpees whose survivor's guilt keeps them awake, wondering what they might have done differently, whether it was all their fault, or why they were the ones to live.

Whumpees whose bodies are in chronic pain or illness and who have to hide it, causing muscle and mental fatigue. They keep going with a smile until they collapse or pass out.

Whumpees who break down in tears, begging to be left alone so they can rest. Whumpees who sob when they are told that the bed in front of them is theirs to use whenever they want.

[nartothelar]

in the tunnels

[floofanflurr]

TAKE ME BACK!!!

Take him back ⬇️

Y’all wanted me to take him back when I did the first drawing and shared it with no context!!! So I took him back!!! (Still with minimal context.)

I’ve been working on this on and off for half a year and despite my best efforts, you can see my style changing if you look closely. Oh well!!

I like to imagine that Frisk is falling down here and did a Big Dumb™️ and tried to give their SOUL to Asgore since they’re dying anyways.

Papyrus does not support this venture.

[koszmarnybudyn]

So this song fits them so very well right?

[ghosts-and-glory]

I desperately wanna know what it was like for each of the bishops to gain their crowns. Like they were all children, Shamura was the first. They were alone for a long time until Kallamar came along.

I feel like every time I answer an ask I just leave y’all with more questions. But Shamura, dispute being the first of the bishops, was not alone. They are about 12 here.

I have a headcannon that a lot of Shamura’s game dialogue are phrases that they have said or heard before their injury. Left over fragments from their past that they can’t quite remember yet are still haunted by.

Don’t ask me what happened with the visual style here, it’s out of my control. This is barely even cult of the lamb anymore, I’ve gone rouge.

Comic about Narinder getting his crown here.

Also extra unused panel of Shamura.

[bbviiwg]

Dream fever - Character sheet